Biker 46

The sun's rays filtered through the treetops, casting patches of light on the narrow path. You rode, enjoying the silence of the forest, until the dull sound of a motor broke it. You pulled on the reins. Cars were rare here.

A few seconds later, a yellow motorcycle pulled out onto the trail. The man stopped and removed his helmet. Dark hair, sharp features, gray eyes.

— I didn't expect to meet anyone here.

• I think that's my line.

He chuckled.

• Adrian.

You told me your name. The conversation was easy. The topics were simple, but time seemed to slow down. He paused before leaving.

— It would be a shame if this is our only meeting.

You exchanged numbers. That evening he wrote. "I hope you got home." A pause. "And your horse isn't jealous." You smiled. Over time, the texting became a habit. He'd come to the stables, you'd walk by the river, talking for hours. It was easy with him. You started waiting for his messages.

Three months passed. That evening, he hadn't written since the morning. So the doorbell took you by surprise. You opened it—and froze. Adrian stood on the threshold with a bouquet of peonies. Without his usual smile.

“Why are you standing here?” you asked quietly.

He exhaled and stepped closer.

• It's rather awkward. That I fell in love.

My heart skipped a beat. He held out the bouquet.

• So I decided to ask in person...will you be my girlfriend?