Page 14 of What They Say

She laughed—the sound short, surprised, and genuine. “Good. I don’t. Name’s Kath.”

“Chase.”

She took a slow sip of coffee, eyes never leaving his. “So, Chase. You always walk up to girls in diners and comment on their bikes, or am I special?”

There it was. The sarcasm he’d suspected. It hit him like a shot of espresso—sharp, warm, and addictive.

“First time,” he admitted. “But that bike’s loud. Hard to miss. And you...you’re hard to miss too.”

Kath raised an eyebrow again. “Smooth. Do lines like that usually work for you?”

“Not even a little,” he said honestly. “I’m usually the guy in the corner who doesn’t talk much.”

“Yet here you are.” She leaned forwards slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “Talking.”

Chase felt something loosen in his chest. The usual weight of being the one still figuring shit out, it all felt a little lighter under the directness of her gaze.

“Yeah,” he said. “Here I am.”

They talked for nearly an hour.

She told him she knew Bear through a mutual friend and had been saving for months to buy the bike once it was finished. She rode it because it made her feel free. Because the roar drowned out everything else in her head. Chase understood that better than he could say.

He told her he played rhythm guitar in Occupy Yourself. She admitted she’d heard of them but hadn’t seen them live yet. When he asked what she did, she shrugged and said mostly she worked at a coffee shop downtown and wrote songs she never showed anyone.

“Too personal,” she said, tracing a finger around the rim of her mug. “Feels like handing someone a map to all the places I’m messed up.”

Chase nodded. “I get that. But sometimes the music feels like the only honest thing I’ve got.”

Their eyes met again, and this time the silence stretched. Not awkward. Charged.

Kath finally broke it. “You seem...different than I expected.”

“Expected?”

“Guy who looks like you? In a town full of bikers and musicians? Usually they’re all ego and noise.” She smirked. “You’re quiet. Watchful. Like you’re waiting for the world to prove it’s safe before you commit.”

Chase felt exposed, but in a way that didn’t make him want to run.

“Maybe I am,” he said quietly. “Spent a lot of years not feeling safe. Figured out it’s smarter to pay attention.”

Kath’s expression softened, just for a second. Then the walls came back up, but they weren’t quite as high as before.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I know something about that.”

The waitress dropped off another cup of coffee for each of them, and Kath ordered a muffin. They were quiet until it came back on a plate, and Kath offered him half without asking. He took it. Then they kept talking—about music, about shitty families, about the way certain songs felt like lifelines. Chase lost track of time completely.

When she finally glanced at her phone and cursed under her breath, he felt a sharp tug of disappointment.

“Shit. I’m late for work.” She slid out of the booth and grabbed her helmet, fastening it into place. Then she paused, looking down at him. “You gonna keep staring at me every time I ride that bike around town?”

Chase grinned up at her, feeling bolder than he had in months. “Probably.”

Kath’s lips curved into a real smile this time—small but devastating.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll see you around, Chase.”

She walked out. The bell jingled behind her. Through the window, he watched her swing onto the blue-and-white bike, bring it to life, and roar out of the lot.