We ride the bike again, but slower this time. Like neither of us is in a hurry to go anywhere. The wind brushes past my face, cool and soft, weaving through my hair and tugging at the edges of my clothes. Streetlights pass overhead like quiet stars, and the world blurs into gentle streaks of amber and blue.
"Night ride always feels nice," I say.
"Especially when I'm the rider," he adds while grinning.
I chuckle and tighten my hold around Felix's waist. Not because I'm cold—but because I want to. My hands rest against his stomach, and he reaches down with one hand, lightly touching mine. Just a small brush of fingers. Like he's checking I'm still there. Or maybe telling me he is.
He starts talking again, throwing out one ridiculous observation after another. But I really don't mind.
"Did you know frogs can't swallow with their eyes open?" he says over the hum of the engine.
"What?" I laugh.
"Yeah, they push their eyeballs down to help with swallowing. Evolution is wild."
