Chapter Text
Thorfinn rides his motorcycle through LA as the sun sets and stars shine bright. The city is a flickering, buzzing neon hellscape. It’s loud. It smells. It’s alive. The kind of alive that makes you feel dead inside. Thorfinn’s long blond hair is hidden under his helmet. He feels the rush of wind as he cuts through traffic. It hits against his skin, and the hum of his bike vibrates through his bones. It’s the only time he feels anything anymore.
The surrounding cityscape is a blur of neon signs and headlights, a symphony of chaos that somehow makes sense to him. The streetlights blur past in a staccato rhythm, illuminating the briefest glimpses of people and places he barely registers. He thrives on the anonymity, the sensation of being just another faceless rider in a sea of faces. Here, he can escape the mundane drudgery of his everyday existence, if only for a while.
He feels the freedom, the wild exhilaration that nothing else in his mundane life can offer. The city pulses with energy, cars honking, people shouting. The exhaust fumes mix with the scent of street food, creating a heady cocktail that clings to his senses. He weaves through cars with practised ease, the bike an extension of his will.
As he roars down Sunset Boulevard, the neon lights from the clubs and bars paint streaks of colour across his visor. He doesn’t care where he’s going; it’s the ride itself that matters. The freedom, the adrenaline, the sense of being alive in a city that often feels like it’s trying to drown him in its relentless pace.
A flash of chrome catches his eye. An engine growls like a beast in the darkness. It’s a car, but not just any car. It’s a monster. Sleek, shiny, and aggressive. A custom-built Dodge Charger that screams speed and power. The under lights glow a sickly blue and the engine roars with a primal ferocity. The car’s presence is magnetic, pulling Thorfinn’s attention like a lodestone.
The Charger moves with a predatory grace, its bodywork gleaming under the streetlights. Thorfinn’s heart skips a beat as he takes in the sight. The car looks like it belongs in a high-stakes chase scene from Fast and Furious, not prowling the streets of LA. He can hear the low rumble of its engine even over the noise of the city, a sound that vibrates in his chest and sends a thrill down his spine.
Thorfinn feels a rush of excitement. He revs his bike, the engine snarling in response. He glances at the driver, a redhead with a grin that promises trouble. Their eyes meet his through the tinted window, a flicker of recognition and challenge passing between them. Thorfinn smirks back, and just like that, they’re off.
The city dissolves into a blur of lights and shadows. The bike and the car dance through the streets, a ballet of speed and danger. Thorfinn’s heart pounds in his chest, the thrill of the chase consuming him. The Charger roars ahead, its tyres screeching against the asphalt as it takes sharp turns with ease. Thorfinn leans into the curves, his bike responding to every subtle shift of his body. The streets become a labyrinth of flashing lights and fleeting shadows, each intersection a new challenge, each straightaway a chance to push harder, faster.
They fly past graffiti-covered walls and deserted alleyways, the glow of the city casting eerie reflections on their vehicles. The world narrows to the rush of wind, the roar of engines, the surge of adrenaline. It’s addictive.
Thorfinn feels the blood pounding in his ears, his senses heightened to a razor’s edge. Every gear shift, every twist of the throttle, every lean into a turn feels like a dance with death, exhilarating and terrifying. He can see the Charger ahead, its taillights flickering like the eyes of a beast, leading him deeper into the city’s nocturnal heart.
But as quickly as it started, the Charger veers off, disappearing into the night. Thorfinn is left with the emptiness, the hollow echo of excitement fading away. He slows down, the adrenaline draining from his system, leaving a cold emptiness. The streets feel lonelier, the city more oppressive. The car’s taillights fade into the distance, and Thorfinn is once again just a ghost in the machine.
He rides on in the darkness, his mind replaying the thrill of the chase. The sense of camaraderie with the unknown driver lingers, a brief connection in the vast loneliness of the city. As he turns onto a quieter street, the roar of the bike fades to a hum, and he feels the weight of reality settle back in.
He eventually pulls into the parking lot of his apartment building, the echoes of the race still reverberating in his mind. The building looms in front of him, a stark reminder of the mundane life he has to return to. He shuts off the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. With a sigh, he removes his helmet, his long blond hair falling around his face, damp with sweat.
As he climbs the stairs to his apartment, he can’t shake the feeling of emptiness that always follows these moments of exhilaration. The rush is gone, replaced by a hollow void. The thrill of the night ride, the chase, the fleeting connection with the mysterious driver—it all feels like a dream now.
He opens the door to his small, cluttered apartment, greeted by the indifferent meow of his cat. The familiar sights and sounds do little to comfort him. He tosses his helmet onto the couch and collapses onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
The city outside continues its restless dance, but for Thorfinn, the night is over. The brief moments of freedom and excitement fade into the background, leaving him with the stark reality of his life. He closes his eyes, hoping that sleep will come quickly, and that tomorrow will bring another chance to feel alive.
Daylight brings nothing but monotony. Thorfinn sits at his desk, a clutter of paperwork and flickering fluorescent lights. The office is a cage, and he’s a trapped animal. His mind drifts back to the race, the thrill, the feeling of being alive. He taps his pen against the desk, the sound a dull metronome of his discontent.
“Thorfinn!” His boss’s voice cuts through his reverie like a rusty blade. “We need those reports by noon. And for God’s sake, stop that tapping!”
Thorfinn’s thoughts are still stuck in the previous night. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbles, not bothering to look up. The tapping stops for a moment, but his fingers soon start drumming against the side of his chair. His mind is always moving, always restless, and the silence in his head feels unbearable.
“Did you hear me?” His boss’s voice is sharper now, the irritation palpable.
Thorfinn nods absently, still lost in the memory of the Charger, the roar of its engine, the exhilaration of the chase. “I said I got it,” he repeats, this time with a bit more force. He tries to focus on the spreadsheet in front of him, but the numbers swim and blur. He reads the same line three times before the words even begin to make sense.
His boss huffs and moves on, barking orders at other employees. Thorfinn’s annoyance simmers beneath the surface. He hates the way his boss throws his weight around, acting like he’s some kind of king in this tiny corporate kingdom. The man’s words echo in his mind, each syllable a reminder of the monotonous grind he’s trapped in. Thorfinn tries to refocus, but the constant interruptions and noise of the office make it impossible to concentrate.
Around him, the office noise fades into the background, the shuffling of papers and the hum of computers blending into a dull roar. His coworkers move around him like shadows, their conversations muted and meaningless. He watches them, feeling detached, as if he’s looking at them through a foggy window. Now and then, a stray thought pulls him back into the present, only for his mind to wander off again seconds later.
“Hey, Thorfinn,” a coworker calls out, snapping him back to the present. “You coming to the meeting later?”
Thorfinn glances at the clock, realizing he’s lost track of time again. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he replies, forcing a smile. Inside, he feels a pang of irritation at the endless cycle of meetings, reports, and meaningless tasks. His leg bounces under the desk, the only outlet for his pent-up frustration.
A flickering light, a passing conversation, the buzz of a phone—it’s all enough to disrupt his concentration. Thorfinn sighs, knowing that the meeting will be a waste of time. He doesn’t care about the new sales figures or the quarterly projections. He doesn’t care about this stupid job or this stupid company.
He wants something more.
Something bigger.
Something that makes him feel alive.
That Charger... What he wouldn’t do to ride it. He can almost feel the smooth leather of the seats, the rumble of the engine, the wind whipping through his hair.
He wonders what the driver was like, what kind of person could make such a monster of a car purr like a kitten. His toes curl, and a shiver runs down his spine as his mind conjures up images of the mysterious redhead. Thorfinn drags his hands over his face, feeling the heat in his cheeks.
He doesn’t even know the person, and he’s already fantasizing about them. Get a fucking grip, Thorfinn scolds himself.
It’s pointless, he tells himself, hoping to see that Charger again. Weeks pass, and there’s no sign of it. Life falls back into its usual, numbing rhythm. The memory of the race fades into a distant, bittersweet dream.
Same routine, day in and day out. Get up, go to work, come home, feed the cat. Repeat. Sometimes, he goes out with friends, but those nights always end the same—drunken laughter and bad decisions. Thorfinn plays the part, laughs at the right jokes, and makes the right moves. But inside, he’s empty. A shell. The routine of his life is a suffocating loop, a never-ending cycle that feels more like a prison sentence.
The nights are the worst. Lying awake, staring at the ceiling. Alone with his thoughts, which grow dangerously loud. The silence presses in, a suffocating weight. He can’t breathe, can’t think. The darkness becomes a living thing, a monster waiting to devour him. He can almost hear it breathing, lurking just beyond the edge of his consciousness. He fights it, struggles to keep it at bay, but it’s always there, waiting for a moment of weakness.
The bright lights and constant noise of the city drown out his demons, if only for a few hours. The City of Angels is anything but holy. It’s a cesspool, a pit of depravity and sin. But it’s his pit, and he loves it. The grime, the noise, the chaos—they’re his armour against the darkness inside. Out there, he can lose himself and become just another face in the crowd. The anonymity is a balm, a temporary escape from the suffocating monotony of his existence.
A flash of chrome catches his eye. His heart stops. He can’t breathe. He’s frozen, staring at the Charger parked at a gas station. It’s the same one, he’s sure of it. He could never forget that beauty and power. The sleek, aggressive lines and the glowing blue underlights are etched into his memory. It’s like a scene from a dream, a mirage that shouldn’t exist in the harsh reality of his life.
He parks his bike and walks inside, the anticipation a tangible thing. The gas station is quiet, the hum of the fluorescent lights the only sound. He scans the few customers, his heart pounding with hope. There, near the counter, a familiar flash of red hair. He steels himself, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart. The world narrows to this moment, the space between him and the redhead shrinking with every step.
“Excuse me,” he says, his voice betraying his nerves.
The redhead turns to him, a questioning look on his face. “Sorry, do we know each other?”
“Uh, no, but…” Thorfinn trails off, his mind going blank. What is he supposed to say? Hi, I’m Thorfinn, and I’ve been fantasizing about your car for weeks. Way to sound like a total creep. “We, uh, ran into each other a while ago. In the city. Well, not ‘ran into’ exactly, but, um, you know. You get what I mean.”
The guy looks at him blankly, obviously not getting what he means. Thorfinn feels the heat rising to his cheeks, embarrassment mixing with frustration. His fingers drum nervously against his thigh, the silence stretching out painfully.
“I was on my bike. You were in your car.” He can’t tell if the redhead is annoyed or amused, but the silence stretches out awkwardly.
“Oh! Yeah, I remember,” the guy says, a smirk spreading across his face. “The green Kawasaki. I saw you.”
Thorfinn’s breath hitches, a thrill running down his spine. The guy is even more gorgeous up close, his eyes an unusual shade of blue, his freckles a constellation across his skin. Oh, Thorfinn is fucked. His heart races, his palms sweat. Every nerve in his body is alive, electrified by the presence of this man.
“You were pretty good. I wasn’t expecting a motorbike to give me a run for my money.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Einar.”
Thorfinn hesitates for a second, his gaze flickering between the redhead’s eyes and the outstretched hand. “I’m Thorfinn,” he says, taking Einar’s hand in a firm shake. He tries to ignore the way his skin tingles at the contact, the way his heart stutters in his chest. The handshake is firm, warm, sending jolts of electricity up his arm.
“Nice to meet you, Thorfinn.” Einar’s lips quirk into a grin. “You wanna get a closer look?”
Thorfinn nods dumbly, not trusting himself to speak. His brain is short-circuiting, a steady stream of Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit running on a loop. He follows Einar outside, the smell of gasoline and hot asphalt filling his senses. The Charger is a beast up close, its sleek bodywork gleaming in the afternoon sun. It’s almost surreal, standing here next to this man and his incredible machine, like stepping into another world.
“She’s a 1969 Dodge Charger with a 440 Magnum V8,” Einar says, patting the hood affectionately.
“Wow, she’s beautiful,” Thorfinn breathes, running a hand over the car’s frame. He’s mesmerized, his fingers tracing the curves and edges of the vehicle. The metal is warm under his touch, a tangible reminder of the power contained within. He feels a connection, an unspoken understanding between man and machine, something deep and primal.
“She’s my baby,” Einar says, his voice a mix of pride and affection. “Spent years getting her just right.”
Thorfinn can barely hear him over the pounding of his own heart. He’s still running his hand over the Charger’s sleek frame, his mind trying to wrap itself around the reality of this moment. This isn’t a dream. Einar is real. The car is real. And he’s here, standing next to them both.
“You into cars?” Einar asks, leaning casually against the Charger.
Thorfinn nods, swallowing hard. “Bikes mostly, but yeah, cars too.”
Einar grins, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds. “You should come by the shop sometime. I’ve got a few more projects I’m working on.”
Before Thorfinn can respond, Einar moves closer. He feels his breath hitch, the air between them charged with electricity. The guy slips something into his back pocket, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. Thorfinn’s skin tingles where they touch, his pulse racing.
“Here,” Einar says, his voice low. “Come by anytime.”
Thorfinn’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He’s acutely aware of Einar’s closeness, the warmth of his body, the intoxicating scent of gasoline and leather. He pulls the card out of his pocket, his fingers trembling slightly.
“Thanks,” he manages to say, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Einar steps back, his eyes never leaving Thorfinn’s. “See you around, Thorfinn.”
When he finally gets home, he stumbles into his apartment, barely managing to close the door behind him. His cat meows curiously, watching as he collapses onto his bed. Thorfinn buries his face in the pillow and screams, the sound muffled but raw. His cat jumps onto the bed, tilting her head in confusion.
Thorfinn screams again, a mix of frustration, excitement, and disbelief. Everything feels too much and not enough all at once. He rolls over, staring at the ceiling, his chest heaving. “What the fuck just happened?” he asks his cat as if she could answer.
His mind replays the encounter over and over, the image of Einar burned into his memory. He’s beautiful, and confident, and so fucking cool. He’s the kind of guy Thorfinn can’t help but admire, even as his envy gnaws at him. Einar lives life on his terms, doing what he wants, when he wants. He’s free, wild, unrestrained. Everything Thorfinn wishes he could be.
Monday morning. The office is a tomb. Fluorescent lights buzz like dying insects. Paperwork, stacks and stacks of it, lie scattered across Thorfinn’s desk like the detritus of a shipwreck. The monotony presses down on him, heavy and suffocating. His mind drifts back to the encounter with Einar, the Charger, the touch of Einar’s fingers slipping that card into his back pocket.
The card. He pulls it out, tracing the letters with his fingers. Einar’s name. The address of the garage. A lifeline in a sea of grey. He can’t focus. Can’t concentrate. The numbers on the spreadsheet blur together, meaningless symbols in a meaningless world.
“Thorfinn!” His boss’s voice is a whip crack. “Stop daydreaming and get back to work!”
Thorfinn flinches, startled out of his reverie. He mutters an apology and turns his attention back to the paperwork, his fingers moving on autopilot. Oh, how he dreams of making that fucker eat his words. He imagines his fist slamming into his boss’s smug face, the satisfaction of seeing the man crumple. The image is a sweet relief, but fleeting. It’s all just a fantasy, and reality is a cold and brutal place. His father taught him better than that.
Finally, the clock strikes five. He’s out the door before anyone can stop him. The ride to the garage is a blur. Excitement and apprehension war within him. He parks his bike and strides into the garage, trying to appear nonchalant. The smell of oil and gasoline assaults his senses, a mix of familiarity and anticipation.
A voice breaks through his reverie. “Can I help you?” A kind-looking woman stands before him, her expression warm and welcoming. He can’t stop his eyes from drifting to the baby bump beneath her coveralls.
“I’m, uh, looking for Einar,” Thorfinn says, his voice catching in his throat.
She nods, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “EINAR, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE! SOMEONE WANTS TO SEE YOU!” Her shout echoes off the walls, startling him.
Thorfinn glances around, feeling out of place. The garage is bustling with activity. Mechanics work on various cars, the sound of clanking tools and revving engines filling the air. He notices a man with long auburn locks working on a car nearby, watching the scene with mild amusement.
“Jeez, Arnheid, could you be any louder?” Einar asks, wiping his hands on a rag as he saunters over. He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey there, stranger.”
Thorfinn swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Einar is even more gorgeous in the fluorescent light of the garage, his freckles dusted across his skin like stardust. Confidence, Thorfinn, he chides himself, pulling his own from where it’s sunk to the pit of his stomach.
“Hi, uh, I hope it’s okay that I came by,” Thorfinn stammers, anything but confident. “You gave me your card and said—”
“I know what I said,” Einar says, the words hanging heavy between them. His gaze rakes over Thorfinn’s body, a smirk playing at his lips. “Come on, let me show you around.”
They weave through the maze of cars and machinery, the cacophony of the garage enveloping them. Einar’s enthusiasm is contagious, his energy palpable. “This here,” Einar says, stopping in front of a partially disassembled engine, “is a 426 Hemi V8. It’s a beast. I’m planning to drop it into a ’71 Challenger I’m restoring.”
Thorfinn nods, trying to keep up. He recognizes some of the terms, but the intricacies elude him. “That sounds... intense.”
Einar chuckles, a warm sound that makes Thorfinn’s heart skip a beat. “It is. But it’s also a lot of fun. Let me show you my baby.”
They reach the Charger, and Einar’s eyes light up. “So, I’ve been working on upgrading the supercharger. The current one’s a Roots-type, but I’m thinking of switching to a twin-screw supercharger. More efficient, better thermal efficiency. Also planning to install a nitrous oxide system for that extra boost when needed.”
Thorfinn blinks, trying to process the flood of information. “Twin-screw... nitrous oxide...”
Einar laughs, not unkindly. “Okay, simpler terms. The supercharger helps force more air into the engine, which means more power. The twin-screw supercharger does this more efficiently than the one I have now. And nitrous oxide—it’s like a shot of adrenaline for the car, makes it go faster when you need that extra kick.”
Thorfinn’s eyes widen in understanding. “So, you’re making it even more powerful?”
“Exactly,” Einar says, nodding. “Also, I’m upgrading the suspension. Going for a coilover setup for better handling and control. And the exhaust system—I’m thinking of switching to a high-flow catalytic converter to improve performance.”
Thorfinn smiles, feeling a bit more confident. “So, you’re making sure it not only goes fast but also handles better and runs more efficiently?”
“Precisely,” Einar says, his grin widening. “You catch on quick.”
As they talk, their body language becomes more relaxed and open. Einar’s eyes light up when he talks to Thorfinn, and Thorfinn finds himself smiling more around Einar. They laugh easily, the conversation flowing as naturally as the time they’re spending together.
Arnheid and the man with the auburn hair exchange knowing glances. The woman’s eyes sparkle with a mixture of amusement and approval, while the man smirks slightly, shaking his head in mild amusement. They see it clearly—the growing affection between the two.
“Look at them,” Arnheid says softly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “You can practically see the sparks flying.”
The man chuckles, nodding. “Almost like us back in the day, eh? Young love and all that jazz. Though I have to admit, Einar could do worse. I think this one actually has a brain under that mop of blond hair.“
“Oh, you.” Arnheid playfully swats at his arm. “Leave them alone, Gardar. They’ll figure things out. In their own time, of course.”
Einar turns back to Thorfinn, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “You know, there’s nothing like a late-night drive to really test out the upgrades. You wanna meet back here at 2 AM? I’ll take you on a drive that‘ll leave you breathless.”
“Hell yeah, I do,” Thorfinn says, a thrill running down his spine. His eyes shine with eagerness, his body practically vibrating with energy. “I’ll see you then.”
“Great. See you tonight.” Einar smiles, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds.
Every tick of the clock is a reminder of how slowly time moves when you’re waiting for something. He tries to nap, but sleep won’t come. His mind is a whirlpool of anticipation, excitement, and trepidation.
Finally, the sun sets and the city comes alive. Thorfinn eats a quick dinner, more to pass the time than out of hunger. He checks the clock obsessively; the hours trickling by like molasses. Midnight comes and goes. One o’clock. One-thirty. Time to go.
He suits up, pulling on his leather jacket and gloves. The helmet feels heavier than usual, the weight of the night pressing down on him. He straddles his bike, the engine roaring to life beneath him. The city’s neon lights flicker around him as he speeds towards the garage, the anticipation building with every mile.
The garage is dimly lit, casting long shadows that dance in the flickering light. Einar is waiting for him, leaning against the Charger, a picture of casual confidence. Thorfinn’s heart skips a beat at the sight of him.
“You ready?” Einar asks, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down Thorfinn’s spine.
“Yeah,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady.
Einar grins, opening the passenger door. “Hop in.”
Thorfinn slides into the seat, the leather cool against his skin. The Charger’s interior is a mix of vintage charm and modern technology. Einar starts the engine, the roar echoing in the night. Thorfinn feels the power of the car vibrate through him.
They pull out of the garage and onto the empty streets. Einar drives with a confident ease, his hands steady on the wheel. The city blurs around them, a kaleidoscope of lights and shadows. Thorfinn can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the thrill of the ride consuming him.
Einar glances at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hold on,” he says, pressing a button on the dashboard. The nitrous oxide kicks in, and the Charger surges forward, a beast unleashed. Thorfinn is pushed back into his seat, a gasp escaping his lips.
The world becomes a blur of speed and adrenaline. Thorfinn can barely think, his senses overwhelmed by the rush of the ride. Einar navigates the streets with expert precision, taking sharp turns and weaving through intersections with ease. Thorfinn’s grip tightens on the seat, the exhilaration mingling with a hint of fear.
Einar expertly manoeuvres the car, taking sharp turns and performing drifts with the precision of a dancer. The Charger skids around corners, tyres screeching against the asphalt and leaving a trail of rubber in its wake. Thorfinn’s heart pounds in his chest, each drift sending a surge of adrenaline through his veins.
They hit a series of winding roads; the Charger hugging the curves like a predator stalking its prey. Einar’s hands move deftly on the wheel, his foot working the pedals with practised skill. Thorfinn can feel the G-forces pulling at him, the sensation both exhilarating and terrifying.
“Are you sure this isn’t illegal?” Thorfinn shouts over the roar of the engine.
Einar laughs, the sound a wild, joyous thing. “Of course it is!” he shouts back, his grin widening.
Thorfinn can’t help but laugh too, the danger adding to the excitement. They race through the city, the Charger roaring like a beast unleashed. Thorfinn feels alive in a way he never has before, the darkness of his usual existence chased away by the bright, burning light of the moment.
They approach a steep hill, and Einar shifts gears, the Charger climbing with ease. At the top, Einar performs a perfect drift, the car sliding sideways as they descend, the world spinning around them. Thorfinn’s heart leaps into his throat, his grip tightening on the seat.
The descent is a blur of lights and speed, the Charger a dark shadow against the neon glow of the city. They hit the bottom and Einar floors the gas, the car rocketing forward. Thorfinn’s breath catches in his chest and his pulse races.
Thorfinn feels alive in a way he never has before. Every twist and turn, every burst of speed, is a reminder of the raw, unfiltered power of the Charger and the man behind the wheel.
Eventually, they pull up to a secluded lookout point where the city sprawls out below them in a sea of lights. Einar kills the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. They sit there for a moment, catching their breath, the adrenaline still coursing through their veins.
Einar turns to Thorfinn, his eyes sparkling in the dim light as he looks at him. He leans in slowly, their lips meeting in a gentle, tentative brush of lips. They pull back slightly, their breaths mingling in the cool air. After a moment of hesitation, they move closer, the kiss deepening, filled with warmth and affection. Thorfinn feels himself melting into Einar’s embrace, the world around them fading away.
They pull back slightly, their breaths mingling in the cool air. This is real. This is real, Thorfinn thinks, his heart racing. He wants to freeze this moment, to live in it forever. But the clock keeps ticking, and the moment passes, taking them back to the real world.
Einar smiles, a genuine one that lights up his face. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” Thorfinn replies, his voice barely more than a whisper.
They sit there for a while longer, talking about everything and nothing. The night is calm, the city below them a distant, humming presence. Thorfinn feels a sense of peace he hasn’t known in years, a feeling of belonging that fills the emptiness inside him.
Eventually, they head back to the garage, the drive slower, more relaxed. Einar parks the Charger, and they step out, the cool night air wrapping around them. Thorfinn can’t stop smiling, the night’s events replaying in his mind like a perfect dream.
Einar walks him to his bike, their hands brushing against each other. “Same time tomorrow?” Einar asks, his eyes hopeful.
“Absolutely.” Thorfinn’s heart soars at the thought. His sleep schedule be damned, he can’t miss a chance like this.