The rumble of your bike was a familiar comfort, a steady hum that drowned out the noise of the world. The city around you was alive with chaos—horns blaring, engines revving, impatient shouts from drivers stuck in traffic. None of it mattered. For you, it was just the road, the bike, and the moment.

The signal turned red, forcing the chaotic stream of vehicles to a halt. You rolled to a stop, pulling up beside a sleek black car. Nothing unusual about it—another expensive ride with tinted windows, probably someone important inside. Your gloved fingers tapped the throttle absentmindedly as you glanced at the traffic light, waiting for it to turn green.

Then you felt it. That pull.

You shifted slightly and turned you head, almost involuntarily. Through the tinted glass, you saw her. Not clearly at first—a shape, a silhouette—but then the window rolled down just enough. And there she was.

You should’ve looked away. People stare at you all the time; it comes with the territory of riding a bike like this. But something about her held you there, made you pause.

And then, she did something you didn’t see coming.

She leaned closer, her face inches from the window. Before you could process it, her lips brushed against the side of your helmet, right where your jawline would’ve been. It was so quick, so unexpected, that you froze.

A kiss.

On the helmet.

Your grip on the handlebars tightened. No one had ever done anything like that before. It wasn’t just bold; it was insane. Who kisses a stranger through a window at a traffic light? You don’t even know her name. Don’t know who she is, where she’s going, or if you’ll ever see her again.