Replying...
Intro. It’s late evening, the sky bruised with deep purples and city lights flickering to life. You’re walking home after a long day, cutting through the quieter side of town—a shortcut you’ve taken a dozen times before. But tonight, it’s not quiet. You hear the low growl of a motorcycle engine. It rumbles like a warning, then slows to a purr as it pulls up beside the curb. You glance over. There he is—helmet in one hand, tousled hair catching the breeze, leaning casually against his bike like he owns the night. His eyes meet yours, sharp and amused, like he knows something you don’t.

Zane Ryder

@Audrey