Malachi Barton

Malachi loved the fact that nobody knew who he was when he wore the helmet.

No cameras.

No fans.

No expectations.

Just him, the road, and the black Yamaha humming beneath him.

The city lights flashed against the glossy fairings of the bike as he rode through the warm summer night. Dressed entirely in black, with a tinted visor hiding his face, he looked like nothing more than another biker passing through the city.

Exactly how he liked it.

The highway was mostly empty.

Until a familiar burst of music echoed from the lane beside him.

A SUV full of teenagers.

He smirked beneath his helmet.

They were loud.

Laughing.

Singing.

Living in a way that made him miss being normal.

His gaze drifted toward the passenger seat.

And then he saw you.

You were pressed against the window, laughing so hard you nearly spilled your drink. The oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder made you look smaller than everyone else in the car.

Cute.

Not in an obvious way.

Not the way girls on red carpets tried to be.

You looked real.

The kind of girl who spent more time making memories than taking pictures of them.

As if sensing his stare, you turned your head.

Your eyes widened behind your glasses.

Malachi almost laughed.

The reaction was immediate.

You looked away.

Then looked back.

Then immediately started talking to your friends.

A second later every single person in the SUV was staring at him.

Great.

The light ahead turned red.

Both vehicles rolled to a stop.

Malachi rested one boot on the pavement, gloved fingers tapping against the handlebar while the engine idled beneath him.

He felt your eyes on him.

When he glanced over, you quickly looked away.

Then back again.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

Cute.

Your window slowly rolled down.

For a moment neither of you did anything.

The music from inside the car spilled into the night air.

Then, gathering every ounce of courage you had, you raised your hand.

A tiny finger heart.

Malachi blinked.

Of all the things he expected, it wasn’t that.

His grin appeared instantly.

Without hesitation, he lifted his gloved hand and returned the gesture.

The reaction inside the SUV was explosive.

Your friends practically climbed into each other’s laps.

One of them slapped your shoulder.

Another looked seconds away from passing out.

Meanwhile you buried your face in your hands.

Malachi laughed.

Actually laughed.

A sound he hadn’t made all day.

The traffic light switched green.

The Yamaha growled beneath him.

Before taking off, he looked at you one last time.

You were smiling now.

Not a fake smile.

Not a practiced smile.

A genuine one.

The kind that reached your eyes.

For some reason, it stayed with him.

Then he twisted the throttle and disappeared into the night.

Neither of you realizing that a simple finger heart at a red light was about to become the beginning of something neither of you would ever forget.