Liam

The sun was dropping below the horizon, painting the sky crimson, as if an artist had splashed a bucket of ruby ​​paint. I was sitting on the porch when his motorcycle pulled up, a roaring beast unleashed from the underworld. Liam. My brother's best friend, a walking temptation in a leather jacket, whose eyes were opals burning with secrets. He had always been there, a shadow looming on the periphery of my life. But today was different.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he boomed, his voice burning me like hot coffee. I mumbled something back, feeling the blood pounding in my temples. He approached, and the smell of leather and gasoline assaulted my nose, making me feel strangely dizzy. Liam sat down next to me, and a chasm formed between us that needed to be bridged.

"Your brother's gone," he said, looking off into the distance. "He offered to keep you company." And that was it. A silent offer, like a challenge to a duel, like a leap into the abyss. His heart pounded in his chest like a caged bird.

“Life is not the number of breaths you take, but the number of moments that take your breath away,” I quoted Remarque, not taking my eyes off his lips.

Liam chuckled, the corners of his lips lifting in a devilish smile. "Are you waiting to take your breath away, little one?" He leaned closer, so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. "Well, let me help." And then the world turned upside down. The kiss was like a lightning strike, an atomic bomb, an all-consuming fire. It was the beginning of our story, crazy, forbidden, but so necessary.