My latest post is actually a beautiful, slightly dramatic shot of the building in front of me. I took it in the rain yesterday, Axe grumbling beside me about wanting to go home because he was cold.
He lives on a boat, for crying out loud. It’s not like there’s any less water there.
Ass.
When I scroll through my mountain of notifications, inhaling the final drag with my free hand, I nearly choke on the smoke when the same username pops up over and over again across multiple posts.
@MilosInNeon_
He doesn’t have any posts up, or any pictures of himself, but the name is obvious.
Shit yeah.
The messages were sent last night. Not just one.Dozens. Under different clips. Different photos. Like he was trying to get my attention any way he could.
And again this morning, right under my newest post.
I flick the cigarette butt away without even looking, accepting the mint Axe offers me on pure instinct before popping it in my mouth. My heart’s suddenly racing like I just downshifted too hard, as I tap into one of the notifications.
And fuck.
The grin that spreads across my face is instant the moment I read his message. It’s reckless. Uncontrolled. The kind that hurts your cheeks because it’s been waiting there for days.
Hi… So, taking a leap here. I just have to know. There could be two reasons your number wasn’t working. One, my instinct about this, about us, was wrong. And if that’s the case, please forget I sent this and I’ll lick my wounds in private. But I for fuck’s sake hope it’s the second option and my stupid sister is just crappy with electronics. If so… please look me up on the app you work for. I have the same handle there as I do here. My address is on there. Hope to hear from you. Milos.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
He thoughtIblewhimoff.
My chest feels too tight suddenly. Too full. I scrub a hand down my face, the stupid grin still there, still growing, heart hammering like I’ve just kicked the bike into gear.
He didn’t forget. He didn’t disappear.
His sister’s just technically challenged.
“What are you grinning about? Did he finally message you?”
I’m not even sure if I nod. I’m already deep in the HandlR app, fingers moving faster than my brain can keep up, searching for his contact details like this is a damn emergency.
And the second I find it, I thumb the starter. The engine roars to life beneath me.
It’s only two blocks away.
We’ve got maybe twenty minutes before we’re supposed to meet the others and head out. But fuck them. They can wait. Or ride ahead without me for all I care.
It’s my mother’s house we’re heading to, anyway. She won’t let those fuckers in without me.
…Actually, she probably would. She’s nice like that.
Doesn’t matter.
My backpack’s already on and helmet secured before Axe fully registers what’s happening. I’m rolling out before he can say more than a sharp, “Kai—” followed by something aggressively German through the still-open connection.
I cut the intercom.
It takes me less than a fucking minute to get there, heart pounding harder than the engine, adrenaline mixing with something dangerously close to hope. My hands feel too tight on the throttle. My chest too full.
