Page 19 of The Girlfriend's Guide to Dating a Biker
No. Nope. Not ready for that conversation.
Megan
Just wait until he sees the spreadsheet.
Me
I hate you.
Megan
No, you don’t. You need me to witness your descent into spreadsheet-based courtship.
Megan
Send me the spreadsheet when you’re done.
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THINGS THEY DON’T TELL YOU ABOUT DATING A BIKER: WHEN HE ASKS YOU ON A DATE
Posted by Anonymous at 1:13 a.m.
March 27
Here’s what normal people do at 1 a.m.:
Sleep
Question their life choices
Maybe catch up on Netflix
I was not doing any of those things, but I was being productive for once, debugging code while jotting down more movie suggestions to add to the list I’d texted Savage (colour-coded by genre because apparently, I express emotional investment through excessive organisation), when I heard his bike pull up. And because I have the self-control of a child in a lolly shop, I might have wandered out to my balcony. You know, to check the . . . weather.
It was prime biker spotting time, and my brain almost vacated my body for a hot minute when I laid eyes on Savage.
To the person who decided it’d be a good idea to light the car park at night: thank you.
Then, he looked up. Like he knew I’d be there. Like he was looking for me. And suddenly my balcony felt very small and very high and very much like a place where I might forget how to think like a rational woman.
“Working late, darlin’?” His voice carried up through the night air.
“Someone has to save the world from Johnson’s code.” I leaned against the railing, aiming for casual and probably hitting somewhere around trying too hard. “How’s your mum?”
“Better. Those movies you suggested made her laugh for the first time in days.”
Warmth unfurled in my chest. “Even the one about the llama conspiracy?”
“Especially that one.” He grinned. “Come down.”
I’d love to tell you I played it cool. That I didn’t practically sprint downstairs. That I didn’t have to stop and check my reflection on the way out because what if my “coding for 12 hours straight” hair had achieved sentience?
But we all know that would be a lie.
He was standing next to his bike, arms crossed while he watched me walk to him, looking very serious now, which, holy shit, should not be that sexy. “That movie list,” he said as I approached, “you colour-coded it.”
