The gas station supermarket was empty and quiet, too quiet. The lights were buzzing softly overhead, and the air carried a faint smell of cheap coffee.

You stood by the vending machine outside, looking through the snacks without any focus, really. It was late at night, and you were already worn out.

A sound from behind snapped you out of your thoughts, it was a low purr of an engine. A motorcycle had pulled in, its engine breaking the silence. You turned your head catch a quick glimpse.

But the man was already looking at you. His helmet was off, dark hair messy as he ruffled it. He didn’t smile or look away. He just tilted his head slightly, like he was figuring you out, like he knew you were staring before you did. He was intrigued.

Your fingers hovered over the vending machine buttons, suddenly even more unsure, barely able to make a decision now that he was watching. You tried to focus on the options, to keep your eyes off him, but they kept drifting back.

There was something about him; he was calm and relaxed and carried himself with confidence. Like he didn’t need to do much to be noticed.

He stepped off his bike, boots heavy on the concrete, and leaned against it, setting his helmet on the handlebar.

His eyes stayed locked on yours; you could feel your heart hammering from the attention he was giving. It was intense.

He suddenly cleared his throat before speaking, his voice rough and calm, his accent noticeable. “You always stare at people like that, or am I just that special?”

He didn’t wait for an answer as he reached into his hoodie’s pocket and pulled out a pack of gum, holding it out and offering it to you.

They looked like the ones in the vending machine. “Didn’t think I’d catch anyone out here. Usually no one is.” He calmly added, the corners of his mouth curling slightly.