Things They Don’t Tell You About Dating a Biker When He Asks You on a Date
Sleep
Question their life choices
Maybe catch up on Netflix
I was not doing any of those things, but I was being productive for once, debugging code while jotting down more movie suggestions to add to the list I’d texted Savage (colour-coded by genre because apparently, I express emotional investment through excessive organisation), when I heard his bike pull up.
And because I have the self-control of a child in a lolly shop, I might have wandered out to my balcony. You know, to check the...weather.
It was prime biker spotting time, and my brain almost vacated my body for a hot minute when I laid eyes on Savage.
To the person who decided it’d be a good idea to light the car park at night: thank you.
Then, he looked up. Like he knew I’d be there. Like he was looking for me. And suddenly my balcony felt very small and very high and very much like a place where I might forget how to think like a rational woman.
“Working late, darlin’?” His voice carried up through the night air.
“Someone has to save the world from Johnson’s code.” I leaned against the railing, aiming for casual and probably hitting somewhere around trying too hard . “How’s your mum?”
“Better. Those movies you suggested made her laugh for the first time in days.”
Warmth unfurled in my chest. “Even the one about the llama conspiracy?”
“Especially that one.” He grinned. “Come down.”
I’d love to tell you I played it cool. That I didn’t practically sprint downstairs. That I didn’t have to stop and check my reflection on the way out because what if my “coding for 12 hours straight” hair had achieved sentience?
But we all know that would be a lie.
He was standing next to his bike, arms crossed while he watched me walk to him, looking very serious now, which, holy shit , should not be that sexy. “That movie list,” he said as I approached, “you colour-coded it.”
“I might have gotten carried away with the spreadsheet functions.”
“You made subcategories for ‘movies that will make her laugh’ and ‘movies to watch when the treatment’s hitting hard.’”
I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Categorisation is how I survive life. Some people go to therapy. I create subcategories.”
He dropped his arms and closed the distance between us in two strides, stopping just shy of touching me. “You made my mum smile on her worst day.” The way his voice softened made my heart trip over itself.
“It’s just a spreadsheet. Anyone would have done the same.”
“It’s not just anything.” His voice was gravel. “And you’re not just anyone.” He paused, his eyes searching mine. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a demand. It was something in between that made it hard for me to think in complete sentences.
“Like a date?” The words tumbled out before my brain could catch them.
“Yeah, darlin’. Like a date.” His expression shifted into heat and mischief. “Unless you’d rather keep pretending you only come to your balcony to check the weather.”
I made an undignified sound that might have been a laugh if it wasn’t half squeak. “You noticed that?”
“I notice everything about you.” He leaned closer, bringing that spicy masculine scent of his with him, dropping my IQ another fifteen points. “Including how your hair gets messier the more you swear at your laptop on the balcony.”
“That’s Johnson’s fault,” I blurted, unable to stop myself from oversharing. “A guy I work with. His patches make me want to tear my hair out. He’s the reason I threaten my laptop like it’s a person.”
I snapped my mouth shut, willing it to stay shut while Savage’s lips lifted with amusement.
“My offer to handle the laptop still stands.” We both knew that “the laptop” was code for “him.” And if my ovaries had any sense of dignity, they’d be ashamed of how much that threat of violence turned me on. “Say the word and I’ll have a chat with it.”
“Pretty sure threatening my co-workers violates first date protocol.”
“So that’s a yes?” His smile turned wicked. “To the date, not the threats.”
“Yes, to the date.” I managed to sound almost normal despite the fact it felt like he’d somehow moved even closer to me in the last five seconds. “No comment on the threats.”
Still with the wicked smile, he said, “I also notice the T-shirts you wear. What’s tonight’s about?”
I glanced down to see which shirt I was wearing and my cheeks heated instantly as I read the slogan: “Fatal Error: Wrong Hole.”
Oh. My. God.
Of all the shirts I owned. Of all the nights to wear it.
“I—uh—it’s not what it sounds like,” I blurted, words tripping over each other. “It’s a joke. My brother bought it for me after I kept sinking the wrong balls in the wrong holes. On the pool table. Not in life. Definitely not in life.”
Savage’s grin spread even more, amusement flickering in his eyes as he took me in. “Sounds like your brother’s got a sense of humour.”
“More like a lifetime mission to make sure I never live anything down. He especially likes to remind me of how badly I play pool.”
He let out a low chuckle. Then, his eyes dropped to my lips, and I thought he might have been thinking about kissing me. But his phone buzzed, and the moment was lost.
His entire body tensed as he checked the message. “I have to handle something.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.” He looked torn. “Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. Wear something you can ride in.”
I nodded and then turned to leave, only managing about three steps before he stopped me.
“And darlin’?”
I turned back.
The smile he gave me was pure sin and filthy promises. It made my heart race and my pulse thunder. The slight lift at one corner of his mouth held secrets I’d willingly sell my soul to learn.
“My name’s Jake.”
Every thought in my head scattered. After weeks of “Savage” and “Hot Biker Neighbour”, hearing his actual name felt like being granted access to a part of him few were privileged to know.
His smile widened, clearly enjoying my malfunction. “You gonna tell me yours? The ‘Your Neighbour’ that you put in my phone isn’t gonna cut it anymore.”
“Eden,” I managed, pretty much failing to recall how to do anything while he was looking at me like that. “I’m Eden.”
“Eden,” he repeated, and God help me, the way he wrapped his voice around those syllables made my skin tingle. It was smooth and rough in the most delicious way. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His bike roared into the night while I stood there wondering if I’d actually be able to get my legs to work again.
Current status : Lying in bed, definitely not squealing into my pillow about having an actual date with Jake (JAKE!) who apparently notices my coding hair and makes spreadsheets sound sexy.
UPDATE (2:01 a.m.): Just heard multiple bikes pull up. Definitely not running to my window to check.
UPDATE (2:03 a.m.): Okay, I’m checking. You knew I would. But only because I heard voices and— Oh . He’s not alone.
There’s a woman with him. The kind of woman that makes you question every life choice that led to your current workout routine. Tall, blonde, curves that probably make Instagram algorithms crash.
But it’s not just her looks; it’s how close she is to him. The way she’s touching his arm like she has every right to. The way he’s not stopping her.
Me
MEGAN
Me
DEFCON 1
Me
I HOPE YOU’RE STILL SUFFERING FROM INSOMNIA
Me
BLONDE AMAZON IN CAR PARK
Me
WITH JAKE (AKA SAVAGE)
Me
AT 2 A.M.
Megan
Don’t spiral.
Me
TOO LATE ALREADY SPIRALLING
Megan
Maybe it’s not what it looks like.
Me
SHE’S TOUCHING HIS ARM
Me
THE ARM ATTACHED TO THE TORSO ATTACHED TO THE NECK ATTACHED TO THE FACE WITH THAT MOUTH THAT JUST ASKED ME ON A DATE TWO HOURS AGO
Megan
Want me to come over?
Me:
Bring wine.
Me
And ice cream.
Me
And maybe a time machine.
Current status : Trying to convince myself that:
1. This is probably club business
2. I have no right to feel like someone just kicked me in the chest
3. He literally just asked me out
4. Professional arm touching probably doesn’t mean anything
5. Oh god, she’s still touching his arm
P.S. Is it wrong that I’m considering taking up advanced surveillance as a hobby? It’s wrong, right?
Comments: Still Disabled
Share: Only if you want Jake to know I’ve memorised the sound of his bike like some kind of motorcycle-obsessed stalker