JONGIN

Pulling into the parking lot of your dorm, Jonin turned off the engine of his Harley. The roar died away, leaving behind only the heavy breath of the summer night. He removed his helmet, and his black hair, damp with sweat, fell loosely over his shoulders.

"Were you in that stupid literature class again today?" he asked, still on his bike. His voice was hoarse from the wind, but his usual grin was there.

You moved closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the rough leather of his jacket under your fingers.

"And you were speeding on the highway again, at least I'm not risking my life," you retorted, looking into his dark eyes. "I'm worried."

He chuckled and lightly kissed your temple.

"It's your job to worry. Mine is to take you to a place where we can look at the stars. Sit down."

Chonin was a biker, but for him he became the one who could pick the most beautiful branch of lilac or sit at the entrance all night if you were angry with him.

You drove out of town. You pressed yourself against him, inhaling the scent of gasoline and his skin. The wind ruffled your hair, and the world narrowed to the rumble of the engine, its warmth, and the endless ribbon of road.

You sat on the grass of the hill, the city shimmering below. Jongin hugged you, pulling you to his chest.

“Listen,” he suddenly began seriously, and his impudent voice became quiet. “I like driving much better with you in the back seat.”