Chapter 3
Three
Mya
I was holding onto Nick, gripping the hell out of his waist and hoping like hell we didn’t crash.
When I said I wanted to not be me for a night, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.
But here I was, riding a motorcycle and trying to feel normal for once.
The roads turned and twisted, nothing but darkness in front of us, carved only by the shadows of his headlight and the occasional glint of moonlight on the asphalt.
The wind whipped past us, biting at my cheeks and tugging at my hair, but all I could really feel was the solid weight of him in front of me. I tightened my hands again, almost like if I let go, I’d fly off into the night, and maybe part of me wanted to.
Up ahead, I spotted the lookout I’d driven past a hundred times but never actually stopped at. I tapped Nick’s shoulder to get his attention. His hand immediately reached down and rested on my thigh. He squeezed gently, and I felt those butterflies low in my stomach again.
I loosened my death grip and pointed toward the overlook. He nodded once, but his hand stayed on my thigh as he guided us to the edge of the pull-off and cut the engine.
The stars above us were beautiful. Not a city light in sight, just endless black sky and those tiny scattered truths burning down at us. Reminding me that I was here and maybe slightly insane to be doing this tonight.
I slid off the bike and shook out my hands, still buzzing with nerves and adrenaline.
He followed, standing beside me but not saying a word, the engine ticking softly as it cooled behind us.
I thought he was going to lean in to kiss me, but instead he reached for the helmet and unbuckled it.
He threw it to the side and pushed my hair behind my ear.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low.
“I think my soul left my body somewhere back on that last curve,” I muttered.
He smirked, and it was so brief, so subtle, I almost missed it. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said.
I leaned against the metal rail at the overlook, staring out into the dark valley below. “I didn’t know where we were going. I still don’t.”
“You said you wanted to feel something different,” he said simply. “Sometimes that means getting on a bike and riding into the dark with a stranger.”
I glanced at him. “Even when they’re emotionally unstable?”
He tilted his head slightly. “You don’t seem unstable.”
“That’s sweet of you to say,” I said. “But you clearly haven’t seen me cry over a broken laminator.”
His laugh was quieter than I expected. Almost like it surprised him too.
A moment passed, me sliding down on the dirt and him following.
Both of us were sitting so close our shoulders were touching.
I wasn’t sure why I felt so close to someone I’d never met before, but I couldn’t say I hated the feeling.
“Why did you used to drink?” I blurted, but before I could take it back, he answered.
“Because it made everything quiet.”
I turned to face him fully now, my hands wrapped around my knees as I brought them up to my chest.
Nick stared straight ahead, jaw tight. I felt bad for asking, but then he kept going.
“My head… it never shuts up. Regret. Anger. Guilt. I used to drink because I thought if I could drown it all out, maybe I could finally sleep. Maybe I could finally forget.”
“Forget what?”
He swallowed. “I didn’t know I had a problem for years.
Everyone around me did. My parents, my brothers, my friends.
They all knew. But I started drinking at such a young age.
It wasn’t because I was running from something then.
I was just drinking because I was a dumb teenager and I wanted to have fun.
” He sighed, laying back and looking straight at the sky.
I lowered my back to the ground, following the airplane he was now watching.
“Sometimes even innocent things have consequences. I never understood why I needed to drink to feel alive. Then I started to drink to forget about all the people I was disappointing and letting down. It became so normal for me. I had to drink in order to forget that it wasn’t what you were supposed to do.
That version of me was easier to be when I was numb. ”
I didn’t speak. Just let him say it in his own time. Because something told me Nick never actually let people in, and if he needed a stranger to confess these things to, then at least here I was.
“I wasn’t a good person, Mya,” he said, voice rougher now. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Been the guy you cross the street to avoid. Drinking… it gave me an excuse not to care.”
“But you got sober.”
“I did,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I’ve fixed everything.”
“No,” I said, quietly. “But it means you started trying.”
His eyes met mine for a second, sharp and dark and impossibly sad. But grateful too. Like he wasn’t used to being seen, and he didn’t quite know what to do with it.
“You’re not what I expected,” he said.
“Neither are you.”
“I think I’m broken in a quieter way,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Nick looked at me, confusion in his eyes.
“I don’t drink. I don’t party. I haven’t done anything reckless since high school when I dyed my hair purple and cried because it didn’t match the dress I was going to wear for yearbook pictures.
” I let out a small laugh. “But I mess things up all the time anyway. My brain is… loud. Scattered. I lose track of conversations, forget where I parked, obsess over something dumb I said five days ago. I interrupt people. I get so hyper-focused on stupid things like what font I’m using on my lesson plans, and then I forget to eat for like… a whole day. And I hate it.”
Nick’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze softened. One that said he knew exactly what it felt like to be exhausted by your own mind.
“I got diagnosed with ADHD last year,” I continued. “At twenty-five. I thought it meant I was just bad at life. Lazy. Too sensitive. Too much of a mess. But turns out… my brain just works differently. And most days, I still hate that too.”
He didn’t say you’re not a mess. He didn’t offer a fix. And I appreciate him for that.
His pinky finger lightly touched mine, his body somehow shifting closer to me. The distance between us shrank, and I looked back up at the sky, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Sorry. I don’t usually word-vomit like that. At least, I try not to.”
“I like the way you talk,” his voice low. “You say what you mean.”
“That’s because if I don’t, it’ll swirl around in my brain and echo for hours until I lose sleep.”
I took a chance to look at him, only to find that he was already staring. Our faces were inches apart. His nose almost touching mine. He smiled, really smiled, and God, it changed everything. It wasn’t perfect. It was a little crooked, a little sad, but so warm it made my knees weak.
“My brain doesn’t echo,” he whispered. “It… haunts. Different kind of noise.”
I nodded, biting my lip. “Maybe we’re just two haunted people, trying to feel a little less alone for one night.”
He didn’t answer, but his hand brushed mine again.
It wasn’t an accident. And I didn’t pull away.
The touch was nothing, barely a whisper of skin.
But it sent heat up my spine. I looked up at him, really looked.
At the shadows under his eyes, the ink on his neck, and the quiet storm in his expressions.
Everything about him screamed danger. Not the reckless kind, but the kind that sneaks up on you.
The kind that makes you wonder if maybe you were always meant to burn.
“I don’t usually do this,” I whispered.
He leaned in closer. “I know. Me neither.”
And there we were, nose to nose, breath to breath, hearts beating like they’d been waiting for this. Nick reached up slowly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering for a second longer than they had to.
His voice was rough when he finally spoke again. “You wanna get out of here? Or stay in the quiet?”
I thought about that for a second. What did I want? But then his hand looped into mine, and the answer was obvious. Fuck my anxiety. “I want to stay.”