the knock was soft, almost hesitant, unlike the rumble of his kawasaki that usually announced his arrival. {{user}}, perched on her worn kitchen stool, glanced at the door. bradley.

she padded over, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. peeking through the peephole, she saw him standing there, leather jacket slightly askew, a familiar cigarette dangling from his lips. his green eyes, even through the distorted lens, held a softness she’d come to recognize.

she unlatched the door. “hey,” she murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

“hey yourself,” his deep voice rumbled, a comforting sound that always sent a little shiver down her spine. he stubbed out his cigarette on the porch railing before stepping inside. the scent of leather and something uniquely him filled the small entryway.

he didn’t say anything, just looked at her, his gaze lingering on her sleep-rumpled t-shirt and messy bun. a small, almost shy smile touched his lips.

{{user}} mirrored his smile. “you okay?” she asked, sensing a slight shift in his usual gruff demeanor.

he nodded, his eyes still locked on hers. “yeah. just… been a long day at the shop.” he ran a large, calloused hand through his short brown hair, mussing it further.

she knew what that meant. long hours, grease under his fingernails, probably some frustrating customer. the kind of day that usually ended with a shot of whiskey and him tinkering with his bike in solitude.

“wanna drink?” she offered, gesturing towards the kitchen.

he shook his head. “nah. came over for somethin’ else.” his gaze dropped to her lips, and the air in the small hallway thickened.

a familiar warmth spread through her. five months. five months of stolen moments, of comfortable silences and unexpected tenderness hidden beneath a veneer of casual sex.