“Am I that handsome?” his surprisingly tender voice shakes me out of the colossal daze I’ve been stuck in for over a minute, with an absurd fixation.
Without looking, or thinking, I turn to break into a run but step on my left foot and very inelegantly stumble and fall. My cheek grazes the rough ground and so does my elbow. I stifle a groan when a dry laugh comes from the man standing above me.
“You can fight men twice your size but can't walk?” he says in that voice I still cannot believe is real.
I have heard that voice change several times since he was sixteen and debuting. I know the exact year that voice went from teenage dreams to adult fantasy. I grew up listening to that voice read bedtime stories on MeTube, sing lullabies, laugh hysterically, say the most nonsensical yet enticing things. That voice has been behind a screen for most of my life, it's not supposed to be here, now, with me, in an alleyway in the middle of the pink zone. This is not real. I think I’m going to have a panic attack, and depending on what that voice says next, a heart attack, maybe both of them at the same time.
I hear his footsteps near and begin scrambling to my feet, my eyes pinned on the ground. He bends over, stretching out a hand to help and I smack it away just as I regain my stand. I clear my throat, stretch my delivery jacket, fix my hair, anything to not look in his direction.
His eyes are on me, like a torchlight in the dark, only in this case, this touch light is a six-foot-two, dark-haired, brown-skinned fantasy, whose favorite ice cream flavor is–I know how stupid this sounds–peanut butter flavor. His favorite perfume is Lingerie by Cior, favorite breakfast pancakes and strawberries with way too much syrup.
I know things about this six-foot-two, dark-haired, brown-skinned fantasy the average person does not because that is what stans do! We… know things, okay? What we do not do is run into a fucking alleyway with our idols! This… this…Ugh! I am having a panic attack, it’s freezing, yet I feel like I’m about to burst into bright orange flames.
“Are you by any chance… a fan?”
My gaze snaps to his. “What! F… fan?” He can’t know, he shouldn’t know, what the fuck! “Of what?”
“You were avoiding my eyes, shortie.” The side of his lips twitch with the prettiest smile known to all of Hazalu and my stomach twists. “And now you were looking at me like—”
“Like what! Whoa… the nerve on you! Shouldn’t you be thanking me, I just saved your life back there.”
“Excuse me?” He steps forward. I step backward. “Don't jinx it… they were only going to rough me up a bit"
“A bit? They smashed a bottle on my back! What if it was you, huh? What if it was on that pretty face you seem so proud of!”
Stop smiling! God I can’t fucking do this, I squeeze my waist to stop myself from breaking this ridiculous act and just throw myself at him.
“You think I'm pretty?" He corks a brow
“Oh for fucks sake!” I turn swiftly, heading down the alley.
“You are going the wrong way!” he calls out to me.
I stop in my tracks, looking up, I have no clue where I am, I blindly ran with him without looking. I turn around and walk back toward him.
“You could have said that five seconds ago,” I say under my breath as I blow past him. The cold breeze sweeps against my skin and I stick my hands into my jacket’s pocket. Wait! The POS! “Shit!” I exclaim, stomping my feet as I pull my hair. “fuck!”
“You curse a lot man,” he says softly, walking up to me hands in pocket.
“My damn POS is in that club! My boss is going to rip my lungs out!” I turn to him pointing a finger. “You have to pay for it! It can't come out of my paycheck!"
“Ohhhkayyy…” He throws his hands up in surrender. “Calm down, shortie, let's just find our way back, and I'll pay whatever.” The smile stays on his face as he walks past me with the same cool demeanor, like of all this is normal for him.
He leads the way and I follow steadily behind, watching the sharp lines of his back slice the yellow street lights falling into the darkness. His silhouette, his shadow, the way he walks, all of it is visually pleasing. This is expected of one of Hazawood’s biggest celebrities I suppose. He is surreal.
We say nothing walking back. At intervals, he turns around to check on me and I immediately look away, all I can think about is getting on my bike, going home, crawling into my bed, and screaming.
We finally make it to the main street in front of the club and sneakily cross the road to where I packed my bike. I fish out my keys and hop on. As I begin putting on my helmet, he attempts to hop onto my bike too.
“What do you think you are doing?” I push him back, my palm pressing against rock hard chest.
“Won't you drop me off?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“My wallet isn't with me, I lost it at the club so I have to get money from my apartment.”
“A… apartment?” I blink.
“Mhmm.” He nods.
His apartment? Do I want to know where that is? Why would he offer to take me there? Idols are more careful about these things. What if I was a stalker? Sighing heavily, my eyes roll before handing him the second helmet and he receives it with a big puppy-faced smile and immediately throws it on.
I wait for him to hop on, and when he doesn't I turn my gaze to find him struggling with locking in the helmet. He can’t wear a helmet? Are we serious? How can he not know how to wear a manual helmet? Maybe he’s used to those expensive automatics that take lock-in on their own.
“Just… come come come.” I wave him over and he leans in smiling. “What’s funny,” I ask, locking in his helmet, my fingers brushing across his soft chin. He only shrugs and I swallow. “There, now get on.”
He hurriedly hops on, and just as I’m about to start the engine, I feel his hands gradually slide over my waist. Every hair on my skin stands, my hands tremble, and my bike swerves. Regaining control, I smack his hand away.
“Are you a pervert!” I yell, turning around swiftly, not realizing just how close he is. Our noses almost touch, the first time I see his eyes sparkle so clearly, forcing me to yank myself off the bike at the speed of light as my stomach somersaults.
“Are you okay?”
“Keep your hands off me! What's wrong with you!”
Defeat flashes through his eyes as his shoulders relax, his head hanging loosely with a little pout on his lips. “Sorry… I've never ridden on a motorcycle before, I'm kind of nervous."
I can't believe my ears, he has played two characters with his signature ‘bad boy’ aesthetic that required him to ride racing bikes. I have pictures on my phone, one of which is my wallpaper. What is he playing at? If I call him out on it, he’d know I’m a fan and this night will take such a shitty turn.
“I’m sorry, okay? I'll hold out until we get to my apartment. Really sorry.”
“Just… don't go all the way, keep your hands by the sides.” I demonstrate.
He nods, and slowly, I remount my bike and start the engine. I feel his hands curl up by my waist, tightly squeezing my jacket. My lips slightly part as I shiver, a slight prayer in my heart in hopes he can’t feel how nervous he makes me. He gives me the address and I type it into the GPS and reeve the engine to life.
only a few minutes before we are on the flyover, blowing over the city lights and I feel his hand grow around my waist. My chest tighten but I don’t stop this time, it’s a major road with multiple lanes. I endure the overwhelming feeling with a strong gulp. Another minute and his head drops on my shoulder. I suck in a breath before lightly shaking him off my shoulders.
“Hei! Get off!” I scream over the heavy gush of cold wind, pouring over my skin. “Hei!” Still nothing.
The minutes trickle by before it dawns on me. Pete has fallen asleep on me. His hands hold me close around the waist, but they aren’t gripping as tight as earlier when we first started riding, and he was nervous, while his head lazily shakes on my shoulder.
For the first time since the craziness began, I don’t feel the need to pretend like I don’t know who he is, neither do I feel the need to push him away. The weather is cold, and though vampires carry no warmth in them, his body against mine creates enough friction to reduce the chill of winter. I let myself accept this, and my heart settles into his embrace–at least for now.
A little smile begins to stretch across my lips when I notice his head sliding off, I catch it just in time and carefully position it back on my shoulders. Great, now I have to steer my motorcycle and make sure he doesn't fall off at the same time.
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