17. Sawyer
Sawyer
Sunday mornings were for two things: good rides and no bullshit.
By ten I was already at the edge of the city with my helmet tucked under my arm and my boot braced against the curb of the gas station lot.
The air was cooler than it had been all summer. Sunlight cut through the trees in long streaks of gold while the leaves shifted overhead. A few had already started turning, patches of orange and red mixed in with the green.
Engines hummed around me, low and steady in a way that always felt familiar.
Across the lot, Nina revved her bike like she had been vibrating with energy since dawn, her grin sharp and impatient, while Vic stood beside theirs gesturing wildly as they talked about something involving getting destroyed in Mario Kart by a ten-year-old.
I shook my head and smiled despite myself.
Jay leaned against his matte black bike with a water bottle in his hand, calm as always, and nodded once when I rolled up beside him.
I took a slow breath and let the moment settle around me. The tension in my shoulders loosened a little as the familiar energy of the group settled in. This was why I came out every Sunday. For a few hours, all I had to worry about was the road.
Tasha jogged up with her helmet tucked under her arm and maps open on her phone.
“Where we headed?” I asked as I swung a leg over my bike.
“Up north,” Tasha called back as she glanced at the screen. “Amesbury for lunch, then down along the coast.”
I grinned. “ Sounds perfect, let’s go.”
We took off together, tires biting into pavement as engines rose in unison. The city disappeared behind us quickly. The steady pull of the road ahead. It was exactly what I needed.
We rolled into Amesbury just after one and pulled into the small gravel lot behind the diner we always stopped at. The place had peeling red paint and handwritten specials on a chalkboard outside.
I lingered beside my bike for a moment with adrenaline still humming through my arms before pulling out my phone and snapping a quick picture of the six bikes lined up beneath the trees, chrome catching the sunlight while shadows cut across the pavement.
Before I could overthink it, I typed a message.
Me: Next time you’re coming with us.
I hit send.
Her reply came faster than I expected.
Addison: I actually would really love that.
My mouth curved before I could stop it.
Me: Noted.
Me: could you be any more perfect?
There was a short pause before the next message came through.
Addison: Enjoy your ride. Be safe.
Me: What’s your Sunday look like?
Addison: Laundry. Cleaning. Real estate emails. Glamorous stuff.
Addison: You?
Me: Ride now. Workshop later. Talk after dinner?
Addison: Deal.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed inside to join the others. The ride had done its job. My shoulders felt looser and my mind clearer than it had that morning. Addison was still there, though.
Inside the diner, the air conditioning hit hard after the sun-soaked ride.
We crowded into our usual booth with helmets lined at the end like trophies and jackets draped across the backs of chairs while menus barely got a glance.
It was ritual. I slid into my seat last with my phone still warm in my hand, and Nina noticed immediately.
“Okay,” Nina said slowly while narrowing her eyes at me. “Who was that text for? You’ve had that dumb little smile since you parked.”
I didn’t bother pretending. “Addison.”
“Ooh, Addison,” Vic said as they leaned forward across the table. “It’s getting serious, huh?”
“Of course it is, she’s got a condo with an espresso machine and perfect eyebrows,” Nina added with a grin.
Jay took a sip of water while Tasha elbowed him in the ribs.
“Don’t act like you’re not curious,” she said.
Jay looked at me across the table. “You like her?”
I hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I do.”
The energy at the table shifted slightly, not judgmental but attentive.
“She broke it off with the guy,” I added while resting my elbows on the table. “We spent the night together Friday. Nothing happened like that. We just talked, slept, and woke up together. Then we got brunch.” I glanced down for a second before continuing. “It was nice.”
Vic raised their eyebrows. “That sounds dangerously domestic for you.”
“It was,” I admitted. “And I didn’t hate it.”
Nina’s expression softened slightly. “So what’s the deal? She out?”
“No,” I said. “Not really. She’s never done this before. Not like this.” I wrapped my fingers around my milkshake but didn’t drink it. “She wants to keep seeing me, but she says she’s complicated.”
“She is complicated,” Tasha said gently.
“She’s figuring it out,” I replied. “I think I’m already in deeper than I meant to be.”
Nina didn’t look surprised. “You’re falling for her.”
I didn’t argue.
“That’s not bad,” Jay said calmly. “Just don’t lose yourself.”
Tasha nodded. “We’re not saying don’t go for it. Just don’t rearrange your whole life for someone who’s still learning the map.”
“I hear you,” I said. “But I don’t think I can be careful with this one.”
Jay smiled slightly. “Then we’ll be careful for you.”
“And if she breaks your heart,” Nina added, “we’ll key her car.”
“She drives a Mercedes,” I said.
Vic perked up. “Oh, that’ll be satisfying.”
I laughed as plates landed on the table and the conversation drifted toward other topics. Dating disasters, road stories, and the usual chaos filled the booth.
* * *
I got home a little after four with my thighs burning in that good, earned way from the ride. My workshop was washed in late-afternoon light that slanted through the high windows and caught on dust and metal shavings floating in the air.
I pulled the sculpture closer to the bench. Scrap steel twisted into soft curves that almost looked like a flower mid-bloom. It wasn’t finished yet, but it was getting there.
An hour disappeared while I worked, adjusting by feel brought the familiar rhythm back into my bones, the hum of the tools settling my breathing the way it always did.
Dinner was whatever required the least thought, Ramen with a fried egg. I ate on the couch still smelling like metal and sun, with my phone lying face up nearby.
At 7:08, I stopped pretending not to watch it and finally picked it up.
Me: Hope the rest of your day was good.
Addison: Productive. Folded laundry like a real adult.
Addison: Almost texted you while vacuuming.
I smiled.
Me: Flattered.
The next message came before I could talk myself out of it.
Me: When can I see you again?
There was a pause before she answered.
Addison: This week’s packed, but Wednesday or Thursday?
Me: Wednesday. Want to do something after work?
Addison: Perfect. Free by 5:30.
Addison: Pick me up at 6:30?
Me: It’s a date.
Addison: I like the sound of that.
I tossed my phone onto the couch and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling as the light slowly faded outside. I should have been exhausted after the ride and the work, but I wasn’t.
* * *