Chapter 4

Jacqueline's POV

Still in the club, my vision blurred. The music faded into a distant throb, interlaced with scattered echoes of laughter and conversation. Everything felt hazy. I could barely keep my balance when I felt Allison’s arm wrap around me, steadying me.

“You had too much to drink,” she said, her voice slurred but still more composed than mine. Somehow, despite drinking more than I did, she was still standing barely and seemed far more in control than I could hope to be.

The ride was a blur. I wasn’t sure where we were headed, but even in my drunk, disoriented state, I felt safe knowing Allison was by my side.

Allison and I had been friends for a long time, though we often had clashing views, especially about men. She was blunt, never one to sugarcoat anything. Sometimes, I wondered if she realized people had feelings.

I still remember the time she told a random guy on the street to brush his teeth because his breath stank. Sure, she wasn’t wrong, but did she really have to say it like that? There had to be a better way to tell someone about their flaws.

“We’re at your destination, ma’am,” the driver said. Judging by his voice, I guessed he was in his early 40s. He must’ve been the Uber driver Allison called earlier, probably already anticipating that I’d be this much of a mess. She had insisted we take a ride instead of driving ourselves.

“We’ll just Uber there and back,it’s safer. What if you get drunk and forget how to drive? You already know I’m nyctophobic; night driving freaks me out.”

“Thank you,” Allison mumbled, helping me out of the car.

As we walked into the apartment, the lingering scent of vanilla confirmed we were at Allison’s place.

“You’ve got a message,” she said.

“From who?” I asked groggily.

The rest of her words faded into nothing. The world fell silent, like a graveyard, and the darkness thickened.

Suddenly, I saw myself, whole and awake, riding my race bike down a highway. I was in the middle of a high-speed challenge with another rider. He was skilled, daring. I didn’t know who he was, but I accepted the challenge anyway. Maybe I was out to prove something,.to him, or to myself.

There was something thrilling about racing alongside a stranger, doing the one thing I loved the most. I imagined him wondering who I was. Maybe he thought I was a guy. Maybe he wouldn’t have picked this challenge if he knew I was a woman.

I got ahead of him, pride surging through me. But that same pride made me reckless. I didn’t see the pothole until it was too late.

I fell.

He stopped, helped me up. Something about his touch sent a familiar rush through me. He supported me into a nearby space, an old, abandoned warehouse.

Still with our helmets on, we were pulled together by an undeniable force.

His fingers found my breasts, tracing their outline with slow, deliberate intent. Even through the biking suit, the stimulation sent shivers down my spine. My body ached with need.

We kissed passionately, breathless and intoxicated by the taste of each other, our tongues dancing in a fevered rhythm.

His fingers continued their teasing assault on my sensitive nipples, drawing a soft, hoarse groan from his throat, a sound that sent my already awakened hormones surging through me like a tidal wave.

His hands slid with deliberate purpose, exploring beneath the fabric of my body-hugging suit, mapping every curve as if he were committing me to memory.

With effortless strength, he lifted me, spreading my legs across his shoulders. I gasped, clutching his hair as his mouth descended on my pulsing core.

Each stroke of his tongue was pure sorcery, igniting a firestorm of pleasure that left me trembling and craving more.

“Hnn…” I moaned softly.

---

“Oh my God, what’s with the noise?” a voice muttered.

I groaned. “Don’t you sleep like normal people?”

“I do. But normal people wake up in the morning,” Allison replied matter-of-factly.

It felt like we had only just gotten back from the club. I tried to open my eyes, but the banging in my head made it impossible.

“My head’s killing me.”

“Hangover,” she diagnosed.

I managed to sit up.

“Here,” she said, handing me a glass of black tea.

“Thanks,” I murmured, taking a sip.

“You’ve got tons of messages from Derek,” she added casually.

At the mention of Derek’s name, my eyes flew open.

“Oh my God… what have I done?”

“Derek is going to freak out,” I muttered, glancing around in panic for my phone.

Allison chuckled. “Seriously?”

Her tone caught me off guard, like she didn’t understand why I was worried.

I grabbed my phone from the side table and scrolled through the messages. Oddly enough, Derek hadn’t responded to any of the texts or voicemails I’d left over the last few days. Instead, he sent a dry “hi” then followed it with complaints about me not replying to him.

No acknowledgment of his own silence. No apology. No explanation.

“I’m doomed,” I groaned. “He’s going to be so mad. How do I explain this to my fiancé?”

“To-be,” Allison interjected.

“Whatever! He warned me not to drink… and here I am, getting wasted and passing out. How is he supposed to believe that nothing happened?”

I paced the room in distress.

Quickly, I typed a message: My love, I’m so sorry. I was at Allison’s, and we fell asleep.

I read it over and over before finally sending it, hoping it was enough to ease his anger.

Anxiety prickled across my scalp as I raked my fingers through my hair.

“Calm down, Jac,” Allison said.

“You don’t understand,” I shot back, my voice tight.

I tried calling Derek, but it went to voicemail, again.

“Hi, Derek. Sorry I missed your message. I was at Allison’s and slept a bit early. Please call me when you get this.”

I hung up. Allison was staring at me like I had completely lost my mind.

“Either say something or stop looking at me like that,” I snapped.

Before she could answer, a loud alarm blared. It was the reminder for my bridal fitting, scheduled in just under five minutes.

I looked at her. “That was the fitting reminder.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

I shot off another message to Derek, letting him know I was heading to the bridal store, even though he hadn’t replied to any of my previous texts.

I tossed Allison the car key. We’d left my car at her place last night before Ubering to the club.

As we approached the store, just by the roadside, a familiar flash of black caught my eye.

A sleek, black race bike.

I froze.

“Jac? Jac?” Allison called, her voice distant and muffled.

“Jacqueline!” She grabbed my shoulder and shook it.

“Are you okay?”

“Ye–yeah,” I stammered. “It’s just… that bike looks really familiar. Like I’ve seen it recently.”

“Maybe from that field where you meet other bikers?”

“Maybe…” I trailed off, still watching the bike. “Do dreams… actually count?”