Rory closed the door of the student residence behind him and stepped into the cold night air. Mickey and he hadn't had plans for today, so they decided to binge-watch a season of Breaking Bad. Two weeks had passed since he met the boy. Three days after the bar fight, he had gone to the gym where they had made a training schedule. They got along very well. Since he lost all of his friends 18 months ago he was careful with making new ones. He wasn't that naive anymore — especially not when history repeated with Patrick. Maddie was the only one with whom he was really close; he could tell her everything. He also had some other guys he hung out with, but sometimes he missed the close friendship he used to have with Jonathan. Or, that he thought to have...

It was close to midnight. The building wasn't located on a crowded street, although there were small groups of students here and there. Rory walked closer to the bike shed. Before he reached it, he passed a Harley. He whistled. He had always loved these things, although he'd never been really close to them. His fingers glided across the cold steel and across the leather seat. How would it feel to ride such a beauty? He was tempted to mount it, but he respected the unknown owner too much to sit on his property. He however did pull his phone out of his pocket and snapped a few pictures. Maybe he could figure out how expensive this thing was, and how many years it would take before he had the money to buy one. His hand rested upon the seat, excitement crackling underneath his fingers. Would Mickey know the owner? How fucking awesome would it be to go for a ride, even if he was only on the back of it?

. . .

Emilio was craving a smoke. He wasn't in the mood to go to the crowded roof terrace, so he went outside through the front door. Things were still weird between Juan and him. His friend knew that something was going on, but Emilio didn't dare to tell him anything. Especially not because Mateo would leave prison within two weeks. What if he admitted the things they'd done, would Juan remember how Emilio had moaned his brother's name? His stomach cramped up. He hated the fact that he had barely seen Mateo the past two and a half year, but it would be pretty fucked up if his friend didn't want to see him at all anymore because of his disgusting fantasies, and he doubted Juan was able to keep a secret like that. Mateo always saw right through him.

With his hand, he shielded his cigarette from the wind, then he strolled up and down the pavement in front of the building. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone standing next to his bike. His jaw clenched as he realized that some kid was laying his filthy hands on his Harley. Squaring his shoulders, he stomped towards the vehicle.

"You have some nerve, huh, laying your filthy hands on someone else's bike?"

The kid turned around and looked up at him. Emilio expected to see fear on his face, but he was wrong. Very wrong. The boy looked him right in the eye.

"I always thought bikers were cool guys."

He had taken the boy for a thirteen-year-old kid, but now he'd turned around, he realized that the boy was much older. Think, blond hair fell in waves down the sides of his face, stopping a few inches above his shoulders. Now he looked a little better, he saw tattoos on his forearms and his leg.

Emilio didn't really know how to answer that comment, so he just shrugged.

"You have it for a long time?"

There was curiosity in the boy's eyes. Emilio let out a puff of smoke. He had never talked about his bike with a stranger, but there was no denying that it felt good to see that the boy was impressed.

Emilio leaned against the wall. "Bought 'm two years ago."

"How much?"

"Twelve."

The boy's hand slipped across the burgundy coating of the fuel tank. "This thing is fucking awesome. It's a Sportster, right?"

Emilio nodded. "An eighty-four. You ride too?"

"Not yet." He smirked. "But I will, one day. I want a Dyna. Or some other low rider."

Emilio nodded slowly, wondering if he wasn't too small for these types. He however kept his thoughts to himself. This was the first person in this town that didn't bore him within a minute, so he didn't feel the urge to chase him away.

"Are these all original parts?" He circled around the Harley.

"I changed some shit. The footrests, handlebars, and the seat..."

"You got taste." His hands slipped into his pockets. "You did it yourself?"

"Yeah."

The boy's glance wandered across the bike once more before he turned his gaze back to Emilio. He lifted the corner of his mouth. "Let's take a ride."

"What?" Emilio stammered.

"Come on, I've never been on a Harley. Make a boy's dream come true!"

His enthusiasm called up a strange feeling in his chest, of which he wasn't sure whether he liked it or not.

"And I'm sure you got nothing better to do at this hour," the boy insisted with a grin.

Fine — there was no harm in it, right? "Where do ya wanna go?"

He shrugged. "The highway? I wanna know what this baby got."

Emilio had considered going around the block and leave it at that, but if they really wanted to ride hard, they better wore helmets.

"Kay. Lemme get the helmets."

Kicking out his cigarette, he went back inside. On his way to his apartment, he wondered what the hell he was doing. For a moment he considered staying inside, but once he entered the living room and caught his roommates watching some boring movie, he concluded that the boy was probably the most interesting company he could get right now. He went into Juan's room, snatched his helmet and spare helmet from the desk, and went back down.

. . .

Rory turned his back to the door, pretending he hadn't been nervously staring at it until it opened. For a moment he had been afraid that the boy would turn him down. After all, that would be typical of him. Getting dumped by a hot guy before he even knew his name. For he was hot. He had exactly that rough edge that made his heart race and he was really handsome.

The boy handed him the helmet. Nervousness spread through his body; not only because he was about to get his first ride on a motorcycle, but also because he would sit very close to one of the hottest guys he'd seen since he lived in this town. Rory put on the helmet, waited until the boy had mounted his Harley and climbed on the vehicle himself. He held the boy loosely by his sides, hoping he wouldn't mind for he had no idea what else to do with his hands.

"I'm Rory by the way," he said, unable to hide his excitement.

The boy looked over his shoulder. In the light of the street lantern, Rory noticed that his eyes were brown. He wasn't surprised, he looked like he had Spanish or Italian blood or something, and he had a slight accent.

"Emilio." He started the engine, a low rumbling filled the street. Rory thought it was a wonderful sound, he sat up a little straighter and tightened his grasp at the boy's sides. His cheeks turned red as he felt Emilio's body warmth right through his shirt and when the bike started to move, there was something jittery jumping around in his stomach.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as they reached the highway. The wind pulled at his shirt and hit his bare lower legs, but the excitement kept the cold away. He couldn't look over Emilio's shoulder to see the speedometer but he tugged at the boy's shirt excitedly.

"Faster!" he yelled. "Show me how fast we can go!"

At this hour, there was no one on the road anyway. The increasing rumbling told Rory that Emilio hit the gas and they raced forward, speeding past the mile markers. Rory was cheering; the ride gave him a euphoric feeling. Despite the speed and the fact that they were really screwed when they would go down now, there was no fear. He only felt some sort of freedom he'd never felt before as if they were raised above whatever law.

"Come on, faster, faster!"

He didn't know if it was because of the speed or because he felt freer or because the couple of beers he drank at Mickey's place affected him more than he thought, but at some point, he felt Emilio's back against his chest and he pressed his thighs close to those of the boy in front of him. His heart was hammering in his chest and it took a lot of willpower not to wrap his arms around the guy, to pull him even closer.

As if Emilio was able to hear that thought, he tensed. Past his shoulder, Rory caught a glimpse of Emilio's restless glance in the rearview mirror.

"Fuck."

He couldn't hear the word, but he was sure that was what the boy was saying. Rory was confused — until he heard the siren. Instead of pulling his vehicle to the side of the road, Emilio moved three lanes aside and took the exit.

Suddenly nervous, Rory looked over his shoulder. The car was way behind them and it was less agile than a bike. He heard Emilio curse and wondered what consequences an arrest would have for him. They rode way too fast — but would it be so fast that he would lose his driver's license?

Rory looked around. He knew to what village they were heading and tried to come up with a way to shake off the cops. It felt like he was in a movie; he couldn't help but chuckle. He pressed his palms in Emilio's sides as they approached a crossroad. "To the right!" he yelled.

The light was red. Rory's heart skipped a beat when the bike shoved in front of a car. He was startled so much that he clutched one arm around Emilio's waist. For a moment the fear that the bike came down paralyzed him, but Emilio maintained control of the vehicle. With a pounding heart, Rory guided him to the center of the village where they could hopefully shake off their pursuers.

Suddenly another idea came up. He looked over his shoulder; the police car wasn't in sight yet. "Go left!"

Emilio trusted him blindly, turning the wheel and extinguishing the lights. There were no street lights while tall trees blocked the sight to the main road. Emilio slowed down now he couldn't see that clear anymore and across the bumpy road, they drove closer to the farms surrounding the village.

"Here, go into that backyard," Rory said. He looked over his shoulder. Headlights were shining far behind them, but he believed they would remain unseen if they went off the road now. Inside the farm, all lights were out. Emilio parked his bike behind an outbuilding and Rory slipped off the vehicle.

"We need to get outta here," he whispered.

Emilio seemed reluctant to leave his bike behind, but Rory doubted the cops would do much if they saw a random bike. But they would if they saw two people around it. Nervously he grabbed Emilio's wrist and pulled him across the farmyard, behind the stables until they reached a ditch that separated the farm from the surrounding land. With his back against the wall of a shed, he dropped down on the ground.

Emilio did the same, Rory could hear him pant because of the tension he must feel. They looked at each other and started to laugh. Rory quickly pressed his arm against his mouth to smother his laughter, but it felt like all the tension came out at once.

The tension rose as they waited until someone showed up, but it stayed quiet around them, and slowly, Rory started to relax. The tension to be caught faded, but it was replaced by another type of tension. He was aware of Emilio's arm that was slightly brushing his. There was no need to sit this close, the building was huge.

Emilio leaned closer to him to pull something out of his pocket. It was a box of cigarettes, from which he took one and shoved it between his lips. "You smoke?"

"Once in a while."

Emilio handed him the box and Rory pulled out a cigarette. After the chaos of a few minutes ago, the silence wasn't uncomfortable. He just hoped Emilio felt the same way.

"What if they'd caught us?" he wondered after a while. "How much too fast did we ride?"

"Almost 40 kilometers. Would be a fine of around 400 euros, plus a shitload of extra money because I drank one beer too much. And I already have a record, so I think they'd take it to court."