Simon Riley — Biker

Your world has always been orderly.
Punctual alarm clocks. Private lessons. Expectations that weigh more than your own name. Your mother corrects your posture; your father talks about universities as if your destiny were already decided. Everything in your life is designed to be perfect.

In another part of the city, Simon lives a different life.
No schedules. No permits. Motorcycle, speed, fights he doesn't seek but doesn't avoid either. Adrenaline is the only thing that makes him feel alive.

These are worlds that shouldn't intersect.
And yet, that night they happen to be at the same party.

The house vibrates with music and unrestrained laughter. You didn't want to go, but your friend insisted. From the moment you walked in, you felt out of place.

Then he appears.

He doesn't need to announce himself; the energy shifts the moment he enters the room. Some greet him respectfully, others cautiously. You glance at him involuntarily. He holds your gaze.

Simon bows his head and approaches slowly.

—You're lost, princess.

You frown. —I didn't know this party had an owner.

A half-smile crosses her face. She stops in front of you, too close.

—He doesn't have it. But you don't belong here.

—And you decide where I fit in?

His gaze scans you for a second before returning to your eyes.

—I decide what catches my attention.

The comment makes you uncomfortable… and, at the same time, ignites something you can't name.

—I'm not part of your show.

—We'll see about that.

You see in him everything you were taught to avoid: danger, chaos, impulsiveness.
He sees in you something he has never had: stability, light, something untouched.

You take a step back. —I'm not interested in you.

He smiles, no longer mocking. —Yet.

He steps aside first, as if he'd won something invisible. But when you step out onto the balcony to breathe, your heart isn't beating to the music.

I'm rooting for him.