Chasing the final ride

The next few weeks passed in a blur, each night blending into the other like a string of stars scattered across a sky I could never quite reach. My routine became predictable: I'd explore the city during the day, wandering aimlessly through busy streets and quiet alleys, discovering hidden cafes and unfamiliar landmarks. But as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, I would find myself back on my bike, the hum of the engine offering me a strange sense of peace.

And more often than not, I found myself riding next to Luke.

It wasn't always a race anymore. In fact, most of the time we just cruised through the city, chatting about everything and nothing at all. Sometimes he'd lead the way, showing me corners of the city I hadn't yet discovered. Other times, I'd take the lead, guiding him through the winding streets of my favorite neighborhoods.

One evening, we met at our usual spot—a quiet overlook at the edge of the city, the skyline sparkling in the distance. It had become our unwritten meeting place, the spot where we'd always end up after a ride.

"Hey, sunshine," Luke greeted as I pulled up beside him. The familiar nickname made me smile, despite the fact that I still wasn't sure why he called me that.

"Hey, yourself," I said, dismounting from my bike. "What's up tonight?"

He shrugged, leaning against his motorcycle as he took off his helmet. "Nothing much. Just wanted to show you this place. I come here when I need to think."

I raised an eyebrow. "You? Thinking?" I teased, crossing my arms over my chest. "You seem like the kind of guy who doesn't do much thinking."

He grinned at my jab. "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised." He pushed off from his bike and walked over to the edge of the overlook, gazing out at the city below. "It's peaceful here. I can just shut everything out for a while."

I stood beside him, the city lights stretching out before us like a living, breathing thing. There was something about this view, the quiet hum of the city below, that made me feel like I could breathe again.

We stood there for a moment, not saying anything. There was an easy comfort in the silence. It wasn't awkward. It was... nice. The night air was cool, and I tugged the sleeves of my jacket a little tighter, feeling a sudden chill.

"You know," Luke said after a long pause, breaking the silence, "I've been coming here for a while. But I've never brought anyone with me."

I glanced at him, surprised by his admission. "Really?"

He nodded, a small, almost reluctant smile on his lips. "Yeah. It's my place to just... be myself, I guess. And I don't usually let people in."

"Why me?" I asked before I could stop myself. My voice was softer than I intended, and I immediately regretted the question.

Luke was quiet for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the city below. "I don't know," he said, his voice low. "You're different."

I blinked, unsure what to make of that. "Different how?"

He turned to face me, his eyes locking with mine. "You don't treat me like I'm some idol or whatever. You don't even know what I do. You just... see me for who I am, not what I am. And I kind of like that."

I felt a strange warmth in my chest at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. I wasn't sure why I'd chosen to keep my distance from the people around me, but in that moment, I realized it wasn't because I didn't want connection. It was because I didn't want to be treated like I was broken.

But with Luke, it didn't feel like that. It felt like he saw me as something else—someone who could still be more than just a person with an expiration date.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile. "Well, I guess I'm just lucky then."

Luke smiled back, that familiar glint in his eyes. "Yeah, I think you are."

We stood there for a few more minutes, the conversation shifting back to lighter topics—our favorite movies, our mutual love for motorcycles, and the ridiculous things we'd both gotten into when we were younger. It felt easy, natural. Like we had known each other far longer than we actually had.

The night dragged on, and before I knew it, the moon was high in the sky, casting everything in a soft silver light.

"I should probably get going," I said, glancing at my watch. "It's getting late."

"Yeah," Luke agreed, running a hand through his hair. "I should probably let you get some rest. You've got a busy day ahead of you, right?"

I frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you're always out doing something during the day. You're a busy person, Iris." He smirked. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were secretly a superhero."

I laughed at that. "A superhero? You really know how to flatter a girl."

He shrugged, not even trying to hide his grin. "I'm just stating the facts."

"I'm really not that busy," I said, smiling as I pulled my helmet back on. "I just like to... explore, you know?"

"I get it." Luke's voice was softer now, almost thoughtful. "I'm glad you're doing that. Taking time to enjoy yourself."

I could tell there was something more behind his words, but I didn't push it. Sometimes, it was better not to question what was left unsaid.

"You're not so bad, you know," I said, giving him a playful nudge with my elbow. "You keep things interesting."

He looked at me, his smile widening. "Glad to hear it. I try."

Before I could get on my bike, Luke stepped closer, suddenly serious. "Iris, if you ever need anything—anything at all—you know you can count on me, right?"

I froze for a moment, the weight of his words settling over me. I wasn't used to people saying things like that, especially not with the sincerity that Luke was showing. I turned to look at him, his eyes locked with mine, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something more in them.

"Thanks," I said quietly, my heart racing. I wasn't sure why I felt so vulnerable at that moment, but I was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, I was letting him in more than I had intended.

"Take care, sunshine," he said, his voice warm as he nodded toward my bike.

"You too, Luke," I said, mounting my bike.

And with that, I rode off into the night, the sound of the engine roaring beneath me, but something else lingering in the air. Something unspoken. Something that neither of us was quite ready to acknowledge.