“Hold on— and don’t even think about letting go.”

Ryder eyes you warily from the back of his bike, brow creasing even after his whole spiel of ‘not caring if you fall’, and shoves his helmet onto the top of your head.

“To your parents’, yeah?” He hums, and reaches behind himself to pat your thigh before starting the engine. “Hope they aren’t mad when they see me,”

It’s quiet, as the two of you make your way past blurred lights and cars, and the way you grip his chest tighter when he turns makes him smirk like an idiot.

Maybe this was a good idea after all.