The garage smelled of gasoline and rain, the faint hum of cooling engines in the air. Ava stood beside her instructor, listening as he explained the intricacies of the bike’s throttle.

But then the air shifted in the garage when he stepped into it. The club owner.

He drove his bike like he didn't care about anyone, like he didn't care he was stabbing the quiet of the serene environment.

She turned to steal a glance while he packed his bike. She watched him peel off his helmet and hang it on the handlebar. Her eyes lingered on his body, observing every detail of him…the way his shirt clung to...