Four hours later, I'm alone on a bench in the middle of town, ringing Lee's phone for the seventh time.
It goes straight to voicemail.
"Lee," I snap, "I've been looking for you for four hours. If you're not here in ten minutes, I swear I'm coming to find you again."
I hang up and flop back against the bench, scowling at the night sky. He said he wouldn't be long. Promised. But here I am, looking like an idiot while my best friend disappears to chase girls.
Then I hear it—motorcycles, five of them, engines loud and throaty as they turn the corner. I sit up fast. Panic creeps in. I'm exposed. Alone.
The bikes roll past, but the guy in the middle turns his head and stares—his visor angled right at me.
I flinch and turn my face away. My pulse races.
"Stop!"
The word cuts through the air like a crack. Tires squeal. The bikes halt.
My heart slams against my ribs.
"Okay," I whisper. "Time to go."
I start walking fast. Don't look back. Just move. I get six steps before—
"Adria!"
I stop cold. That voice.
I turn slowly, and there he is—helmet off, dark hair windswept, eyes catching the moonlight.
"Jensen?"
He grins slightly. "What the hell are you doing out here alone, kid?"
stop walking. Turn slowly. My heart's still going crazy, but now it's for a different reason.
He's standing by the bench I was just sitting on. Helmet in one hand, leather jacket hanging off one shoulder, moonlight gleaming in his dark hair like he walked out of a movie. I haven't seen him in months. But he's here, just like that.
"Jensen," I say, walking toward him. "What are you doing here?"
"Out riding with my crew," he says, nodding behind him at the bikes. "Saw you sitting there and figured you might need rescuing again."
I stop a few feet away, fold my arms. "First of all, I wasn't in trouble. Second—still not a kid."
He smirks, tilting his head. "That so?"
"Very much so."
"You look about ten."
"Try fifteen."
"Same thing."
I huff. "You're seriously annoying."
He chuckles, easy and low, and I hate how it makes something flip in my stomach.
"You waiting for someone?" he asks, more serious now.
"Yeah." My voice tightens. "Lee."
Jensen nods slowly. "You been waiting long?"
"Four hours."
His brow lifts. "Four hours? Kid—" he sees my glare and corrects, "—Adria, that's not okay. You should've left. Or called someone."
"I did. Seven times."
He frowns. "You worried?"
I shrug, trying to pretend I'm not. "I don't know. I guess. He's never ditched me this long before."
Jensen studies me like he's reading everything I'm not saying. Then he jerks his chin toward the bikes. "Come meet the guys. You look like you need a distraction."
I hesitate, eyeing the group. All five bikes are still parked, the guys now standing around, helmets off, chatting and watching me with casual curiosity. Not unfriendly—but definitely curious.
"I don't know…"
He steps closer. "Hey." His voice softens. "You trust me, don't you?"
I do.
That's the problem.
So I nod.
He grins and grabs my hand like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Come on."
We walk over together, and suddenly I'm aware of everything—how warm his hand is, how tightly I'm gripping it, how all five guys fall quiet the second we reach them.
"Guys, this is Adria," Jensen says, casually tossing his helmet onto his bike.
They give me nods, a few of them mutter greetings.
A tall guy with a cigarette grins at me. "Hey. I'm Sam."
"Hi," I say, trying not to shrink under their attention.
"How old are you, kid?" he asks, blowing smoke to the side.
"Fifteen."
Sam raises his eyebrows and side-eyes Jensen. "Jailbait, bro."
Jensen snorts and throws a crumpled napkin at him. "Shut up."
"Just saying," Sam mutters, laughing.
I narrow my eyes. "I'm standing right here, you know."
That gets another laugh out of the group.
Sam flicks his cigarette away and crosses his arms. "So what's got you out here at this hour, JB?"
"Waiting on her friend," Jensen answers for me. "Apparently, he met up with a girl. Hours ago."
"Figures," Sam says, nodding like he's seen it all before.
I roll my eyes. "I know what he's doing. I just didn't want to leave him behind."
"You live with him?" Jensen asks.
I freeze for a second. "Something like that."
"Your parents cool with that?"
I glance at Sam, then Jensen, then back at Sam. "It's complicated."
Jensen notices the way I shift, and to his credit, he doesn't press.
"She's the one who found me last year," he says to the guys, like that explains everything.
Sam squints at me. "Wait, have we met before?"
I frown. "No. Don't think so."
"You sure?"
"Pretty sure."
He watches me too long for comfort, but before I can get more uncomfortable, Jensen steps between us. "You want a ride home, kid?"
I blink at him, startled. "What?"
"Home. You shouldn't be walking back alone. I'll drop you off."
"I—" I shake my head. "No. I'm good."
"Adria." His voice drops. "It's after two. You're in the middle of town with no backup."
"I'll be fine."
"I'm not asking."
Before I can argue, Sam jumps back in. "Hey, JB—you sure we haven't met?"
Jensen turns to him, clearly annoyed. "Jesus, Sam, back off."
I pull my phone out. "I'll just call Lee again."
I dial and put it on speaker—because my phone's messed up and won't work otherwise.
"Hello?" Lee answers, voice slurred. Loud music blares behind him.
"Where are you?" I hiss.
"Relax, Adria. I'm with… what's your name again, sweetheart?"
I roll my eyes.
"I'm with Candy."
"Cool. I'm with Rage," I snap. "You said ten minutes. It's been four hours."
"Christ, Adria! I'm busy! You're not a kid—I don't need to hold your hand. Go home."
The call cuts off.
I stare at my phone, blinking.
My throat tightens. I swallow hard. No way I'm crying in front of these guys.
"Adria?"
I turn slowly to Jensen. All the guys are silent, watching me. I keep my eyes locked on Jensen.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'll walk."
"No." His voice is soft but firm. "Helmet. Now."
"Jensen—"
"I'll drop you a block from your house. No one'll see. Stop fighting me and get on the damn bike."
I hesitate, but I'm too exhausted to argue anymore.
He walks up, flicks my nose. "You worry too much, kid. You'll age early."
I smile despite myself. "You say that like you're not twenty going on fifty."
He laughs, buckles the helmet under my chin, and leads me to the bike. I climb on behind him, awkward until he grabs my arms and wraps them tightly around his middle.
"Hold on like you mean it kid."
"I'm not a—."
The engine roars to life and cuts me off.
Ten minutes later, we coast into a quiet street across from the forest.
Jensen turns off the bike and helps me off, then gently undoes the helmet straps and lifts it off.
"That was… fun," I admit.
He smirks. "Told you. I'll go faster next time."
I roll my eyes. "Please don't."
He reaches out, brushing a stray hair behind my ear. Then, softer than before: "That's three times I've run into you in a year. I don't believe in coincidence, kid."
I freeze, staring up at him.
"I wasn't supposed to go riding tonight," he says, almost like he's thinking aloud. "Had a problem I couldn't fix. Wanted air. And then… I saw you."
He pauses.
"I think you were meant to be there."
I don't know what to say. So I say nothing.
"I want to be your friend," he adds. "Is that weird?"
"No," I whisper. "I want that too."
He hands me his phone. "Your number."
I enter it. "You're saved as Damsel."
He grins. "Knight, then."
We both laugh.
I glance toward the trees. "I should go."
He nods. His eyes meet mine and Then: "You want to help me?"
I turn back. "Help you with what?"
"There's a guy. He's got my dad's computer. It's locked up in a storage unit, but the password's on his phone. I need what's on that drive."
"And?"
"And I can't get near him without blowing it."
I pause. Then: "I'll help you."
He stares. "You serious?"
"Yeah. Text me when you're ready."
He nods slowly, like he's not sure what to do with the offer.
Then he gets back on his bike, straps on the helmet, and before he leaves, looks back at me one more time.
"See ya, kid."
And just like before, he vanishes into the night.
But this time, I don't feel alone watching him go.