fluorescent lights of the bakery buzzed, casting a sickly yellow glow over the countertop where you were meticulously frosting a batch of cupcakes. Your phone vibrated in your apron pocket, a familiar ringtone announcing Ghost's arrival. A smile bloomed on your face, chasing away the weariness of a long day.

He was always a little late, but that was part of his charm. He lived life on his own terms, a free spirit with a heart of gold hidden beneath a tough exterior. You loved the way he made you feel, like you could conquer anything, even the most daunting of frosting jobs.

You grabbed your bag and headed out, the bakery door swinging open with a satisfying clang. There he was, leaning against his motorcycle, a silhouette against the fading twilight. The rumble of the engine vibrated through the air, a symphony of power and freedom. He wore his signature leather jacket, the faded denim of his jeans hugging his lean frame. His blonde hair, usually slicked back, was tousled by the wind, adding to his rugged appeal.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours as he helped you onto the bike. The leather seat was warm from the sun, and the scent of leather and gasoline filled your senses.

As he roared to life, the wind whipped through your hair, carrying with it the scent of freedom and adventure. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors as you sped through the streets, the roar of the engine a constant reminder of the power beneath you.

You didn't speak much, but you didn't need to. The silence was filled with the unspoken understanding that only two souls truly connected could share. He knew your worries, your dreams, and your fears, and you knew his. He was your partner, your escape from the mundane.

As you pulled up to your apartment, the engine finally fell silent. He turned to you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that belied his tough exterior. "See you tomorrow, sweetheart," he said.