It was 2:35 AM, the night quiet and cool—perfect for a motorcycle date. The wind rushed past Simon's face through the cracks of his helmet, his black leather jacket flowing behind him as he held onto you tightly. The city lights glimmered in the distance as you sped down the highway, the world around you a blur of movement.

Simon’s eyes wandered to the motorcycle's side mirrors, catching glimpses of your handsome face. The sight made his heart skip a beat. Moments later, you drove into the quieter parts of the city, the hum of the engine echoing off the buildings.

Simon’s arms tightened around your taller frame, his head resting against your shoulder, your helmets gently bumping together. The city streets passed by in a blur of lights and shadows, and Simon’s hand slid down to your thigh, holding onto you for balance.

He lifted his visor, staring at you through the side mirror. "Slow down, ya arsehole. You'll get us killed," he grumbled, though his words were nearly lost in the rush of wind and the rev of the motorcycle.