You’d always been a hopeless dreamer—tall, rich men in black suits, mafia bosses on sleek sport bikes. You thought they only existed in your fantasies.

Until that night.

On the way home from your grandmother’s house, you sat bored in the passenger seat as your mom stopped at a red light. You glanced into the side mirror—and froze.

A man on a black sport bike. Expensive. Dangerous. Dressed in a fitted black suit vest like he belonged in a movie.

You unbuckled and turned to the back seat, lifting your phone.

“Sit back and buckle your seatbelt, {{user}}!” your mom scolded.

But you couldn’t move.

Because just then, he lifted his visor. His eyes met yours.

Sharp. Dark. Intentional.

Your heart skipped. And then the light turned green—and he was gone.

At home, you posted the photo on TikTok with the caption: “FIND HIM FOR ME!” With a few heart and fire emojis for dramatic effect, of course.

You didn’t expect anything.

It was just another silly post. But you still refreshed the comments every five minutes, just in case.

Hours passed.

Then—your phone buzzed.

A new comment.

You opened it.

SpencerAsher : That’s me.

Your heart stopped.

You clicked the profile.

No posts. Just a black profile picture.

Another comment came in a second later:

SpencerAsher : You were staring first, sweetheart.