Page 30 of Gatsby's Starlet
“And now?”
She studied me for a second. “Now I think you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. Especially a biker.”
I leaned in before I could overthink it. “Careful,” I murmured. “You might be underestimating me.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t move away. “Would that be so terrible?”
The space between us disappeared without either of us deciding to close it.
My hand lifted, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face before settling lightly against her cheek, and the warmth of her skin hit harder than I expected. My nose brushed hers first, just slightly, just enough that I had to find the angle, and then I kissed her.
Slow at first. Careful.
She made a small sound against my mouth that I don’t think she meant to, and something about that undid me more than any of the rest of it had.
When she leaned into it, when her hand came up to rest against my chest, fingers curling slightly in my shirt, the kiss deepened on its own, warmth spreading between us until the quiet house didn’t feel quite so big anymore.
When we pulled back, she looked just as surprised as I felt.
Neither of us spoke right away.
Then I said the only true thing I had. “I don’t do this.”
She looked at me.
“Any of it,” I said. “The movies. The coming inside. I don’t do any of it.”
She didn’t ask what I meant. Just held my gaze like she already understood, and that was almost worse.
I let out a breath. “If I stay much longer, I’m probably not leaving tonight.”
Her cheeks flushed faintly. “That would be… a little fast.”
“Yeah,” I said, standing and grabbing my jacket. “It would.”
She walked me to the door, the porch light flicking on as she opened it, spilling warm light across the street. We stood there for a moment, neither of us quite ready to let the night close.
“Thanks for the movie,” I said.
“You barely watched it.”
“Still counts.”
She smiled. “Drive safe.”
I stepped out onto the porch, then paused just long enough to lean down and kiss her again, quick this time, but enough to make her breath catch, before heading back to the bike.
The engine roared to life, breaking the quiet street open.
I didn’t look back.
Didn’t need to.
But something about the night felt different as I rode off, like I’d left something behind whether I meant to or not. Like the version of me that had walked through that door wasn’t quite the same one riding away from it.
I was two blocks out before I noticed the bike parked just past the corner. Dark. Engine off.
Probably just a neighbor.
