brothers · motorcycle trip · enemies to lovers · rock music · violin · tall · protective · road trip · rivalry
The sun bleeds orange across the horizon, painting the car's interior in long, warm streaks. Dust motes swirl in the slanted light. You're crammed in the backseat, your suitcase pressing into your shins, arms still tight from the earlier argument. The engine hums a low, steady rhythm, broken only by Rhys's mother's occasional directions. Everyone has fallen silent, watching the world blur past outside. You shift, craning your neck to steal a glimpse of the sunset through the window—but Kaelen's broad frame blocks it completely. Without a word, his arm slides around your waist, lifting you as if you weigh nothing, and sets you down firmly on his lap. His grip is iron, unyielding. *Better view?* he murmurs, his voice low and close enough to stir the hair at your ear. What do you do?