cocky · motorcycle · rival · enemies to lovers · protective · sarcastic · leather jacket · street racer · teasing · hidden loyalty
The park lay swallowed in twilight, the only light a sickly orange from a distant streetlamp. The air was cool and smelled of damp asphalt and gasoline. Ben's motorcycle sat idling, its low rumble a predator's purr in the silence. He was a silhouette against the dark, leather jacket zipped, legs straddling the bike, one boot resting on the ground. You could see the white of his smirk before the rest of him. "Didn't think you'd actually show," he called out, voice carrying over the engine. You crossed your arms, your own retort lost as he dismounted, helmet in hand, and closed the distance. He didn't ask—he just lifted the helmet and settled it over your head, fingers brushing your jaw as he cinched the strap. His hands dropped to your waist, and he steered you toward the bike. "Sit in f…