Break up with me
He was already looking at her, and he was already smiling, and it was the same eyes, the same dark eyes she'd seen above the seam of a visor in a 7-Eleven three nights ago, the ones that had smiled at her when she'd told him to take it back.
"Hey, babe," he said.
The crowd roared around them, thinking it was a joke, a bit, a driver being funny for the cameras somebody was holding up on their phones. Dani stood frozen, her helmet under her arm, her chest heaving, staring at the tattoo, at the face, at the mouth that had just called her babe in front of forty cars and two hundred strangers like they'd been together for years.
"You," she said.
"Me," he agreed.