Chapter Six
Hans
The next morning, Hans woke up feeling lighter than he had in days.
Hanging up on Dirk had been the right call—closure long overdue, actually.
The ache was still there, but muted, like a bruise finally fading.
He made coffee, sat down to write, and tried to lose himself in his mafia novel.
But every few sentences, his mind drifted back to Adrik—his smirk, his voice, the way he’d looked at Hans like he was trouble worth chasing.
By noon, Hans gave up pretending he wasn’t distracted. He stared at his laptop, sighed, and finally pushed back from the desk. Screw it. He wasn’t waiting until seven. He wanted to see Adrik now.
He threw on a jacket, stepped outside, and walked the short path to Adrik’s cottage. His heart thudded harder with every step. This was stupid. Brave, maybe, but stupid. What if Adrik didn’t want to see him? What if he’d misread everything? What if Adrik was the kind that left scars?
Still, he knocked.
Nothing.
Hans swallowed, already turning to leave, telling himself this was a sign to back off, to stay safe, to not repeat old mistakes, and then the bright red door creaked open.
Adrik stood there, leaning casually against the frame, wearing jeans and a fitted T-shirt that clung to his chest and arms like it had been tailored for him.
His muscles were impossible to ignore, especially his broad shoulders, defined biceps, and the kind of body that made Hans’ thoughts derail instantly.
And that grin… wide, warm, and a little dangerous.
“Come in,” Adrik said, still smiling like he’d been expecting him.
Hans stepped inside, pulse racing. The cottage surprised him—warm, cozy, and lived-in.
Soft lighting, a worn leather sofa, a few personal touches that didn’t match the tough exterior Adrik carried around.
Did Adrik decorate this place alone or did someone help, and who did he know around here to help?
“I suppose you’re here because I left last night,” Adrik said, closing the door behind them.
Hans turned to face him. “I wanted to see you.”
Adrik’s expression softened, just a little. “I don’t know what happened last night. I wanted to take you home with me.”
“You should have,” Hans said, stepping closer. “Now you owe me.”
Adrik raised a brow. “And what is it I owe you?”
“You wore a gold wristband.”
A slow smirk spread across Adrik’s face. “You want me to make good on it?”
“Yes,” Hans said, heat curling low in his stomach. “That’s why I’m here.”
Adrik chuckled, deep and warm. “I can tell we’re going to have to fight to top around here.”
“I don’t mind fighting to top,” Hans said, matching his grin. “But we could take turns.”
“Taking turns?” Adrik scoffed playfully.
“Why not?”
“No, I don’t think so. Let the best fighter top.”
Hans laughed. “I’m not a fighter. Are you?”
“Sometimes.” Adrik stepped closer, his voice dropping.
“Are you busy right now?”
“Not really… but I’m not ready to make good on my word. You know, not prepared for it.”
Hans nodded, surprisingly gentle. “How about we go to Rostock and take the Hot Rod Harbor City Tour? You get to drive these hot rods around town. Then we can stop for dinner. My treat—at least until that pisses you off.”
Adrik grinned, the tension easing into something warm and exciting. “That sounds great.”
A shiver crawled up Hans’ spine, and his breath hitched, sensing the unseen danger lurking in the exciting possibilities.
They stepped onto the train to Rostock and it was as if Hans had moved into another version of his life—one where he wasn’t the guy who hid behind his laptop and old heartbreaks, but someone bold enough to knock on a stranger’s door and say yes to whatever came next.
And sitting beside Adrik on the train only amplified that feeling.
Hans tried not to stare, but subtlety had never been his strong suit. Every time Adrik caught him looking, he smirked like he knew exactly what Hans was thinking.
The closer they got to Rostock, the more Hans’ anticipation grew. Hot rods, dinner, and Adrik—this was shaping up to be one hell of a night.
When they arrived at the Hot Rod Harbor City Tour, Hans’ pulse kicked up. The cars were ridiculous in the best way—low, loud, and built for showing off. Adrik’s eyes lit up, and Hans couldn’t help but grin. Seeing him excited was… unexpectedly attractive.
“Pick one,” Adrik said, nodding toward the row of gleaming hot rods.
Hans walked along the line, pretending to consider each one, but really he was just buying time to enjoy the way Adrik leaned against the hood of a bright red car, arms crossed, muscles stretching the fabric of his T-shirt.
He looked like a total heartbreaker, the kind you know you shouldn’t go for.
Hans pointed to a sleek black one. “This one.”
Adrik raised a brow. “Going for the intimidating look?”
Hans shrugged. “Figured I’d match my date.”
Adrik’s grin widened. “So, I’m your date now?”
Heat crept up Hans’ neck. “Well… I did invite you.”
“True,” Adrik said, stepping closer. “And I’m not just anyone.”
The words struck Hans with an unexpected intensity. He wasn’t sure what to do with that—whether to lean into it or laugh it off. He settled somewhere in the middle.
“Good,” Hans said lightly. “You feel special.”
“But you’re super special. I liked it when you knocked on my door to see me,” Adrik said, voice low enough to make Hans’ stomach flip.
Before Hans could respond, the tour guide called over instructions. They climbed into their hot rods, engines rumbling beneath them. Hans’ body shook with a mix of adrenaline and a strange, electric warmth.
As they pulled out onto the streets of Rostock, Adrik glanced over at him from his own red hot rod, a wicked grin on his face.
“Try to keep up,” he shouted over the engine.
Hans laughed, revving his own. “Oh, I plan to.”
They tore through the city, wind whipping through their hair, engines roaring, the world blurring around them. Alive with excitement, Hans was reckless, free, and dangerously fascinated by the man alongside him.
By the time they parked again, Hans’ heart was pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the speed.
Adrik walked over, still buzzing with adrenaline. “You’re better at this than I thought.”
Hans smirked. “You underestimate me.”
“Not anymore.”
Their eyes held, the air between them charged again, the same way it had been at the bar. Hans was irresistibly drawn, as if by a powerful magnet.
“Dinner?” he asked, voice softer now.
Adrik nodded. “Sounds like a good plan.”
As they walked side by side toward the waterfront restaurants, Hans realized something: he wasn’t just eager. He was hopeful. And that was the most dangerous feeling of all.
Dinner in Rostock transported Hans to another world.
The waterfront was lit with strings of warm lights, the air carrying the scent of salt and grilled seafood.
He walked beside Adrik, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that every brush of their arms sent a spark up his spine.
They chose a small restaurant overlooking the harbor—the kind with wooden tables, candles flickering in glass jars, and a view of the boats rocking gently in the water. Adrik opened the door for him, relaxed yet watchful, and Hans’ heart did that silly thing again.
They sat across from each other, menus open but mostly ignored. Hans couldn’t stop staring at Adrik — the way the candlelight softened his features, the way his T-shirt stretched across his chest, the way he leaned forward like he was trying to read Hans’ thoughts.
“So,” Adrik said, smirking, “you’re a better driver than I expected.”
Hans snorted. “You keep underestimating me. It’s becoming a habit.”
“Maybe I like being surprised.”
Heat rose on his neck. “Maybe I like surprising you.”
A shiver ran down his spine as he looked into Adrik’s dark eyes. God, this man was dangerous. Not just physically—emotionally. The kind of danger Hans had sworn he’d avoid after Dirk. But here he was, leaning in, wanting more.
They ordered dinner—fish for Hans, steak for Adrik—and the conversation flowed more easily than Hans had expected. They talked about travel, about food, and about stupid things like favorite movies. But now and then, the conversation dipped into something deeper.
“You live alone?” Adrik asked, voice casual but his eyes sharp.
“Yeah,” Hans said. “You?”
Adrik hesitated. Just a flicker, but Hans caught it. “Yeah. Alone.”
Hans didn’t push. He could feel the walls around Adrik—thick, reinforced, built from something darker than heartbreak. But he also saw the cracks. The way Adrik looked at him wasn’t casual.
Halfway through dinner, Adrik leaned back in his chair, studying him. “You know… I didn’t expect you to show up at my door today.”
Hans laughed softly. “I didn’t expect it either.”
“What made you come?”
Hans met his gaze, steady. “I wanted to see you.”
Adrik’s jaw tightened, as if the words hit him somewhere he wasn’t prepared for. “You’re trouble, Hans.”
Hans smirked. “You’re one to talk.”
Adrik’s lips curved. “Fair.”
They finished dinner, but neither of them seemed ready for the night to end. They walked along the harbor, the cold air brushing against their skin, their steps falling into an easy rhythm.
The tension built again—that magnetic pull between them, the kind that made Hans’ heart race and his thoughts scatter.
He wanted to reach out, to take Adrik’s hand, to close the distance.
But he sensed the shadows of everything he didn’t know about this man—the ones behind his eyes, the secrets he carried beneath the armor.
When Adrik suddenly turned to him and stopped, Hans’ breath hitched.
“This was good,” Adrik whispered. “Better than I expected.”
Hans smiled. “Yeah. It was.”
Adrik stepped closer, close enough that Hans could feel the warmth of his body, close enough that the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.
“Come on,” Adrik said, voice low. “Let’s head back.”
Hans nodded, pulse quickening. He didn’t know where the night was going. He didn’t know whether he should lean in or pull back. But he knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t ready for this to end.