Not far away, beyond the small crowd of girls, the biker who’d almost killed Nate in front of the hotel was staring at him in a way no other man had before. He met an intense gaze focused on him, the man like a hawk about to strike. When he opened his eyes, finishing the song, his brain froze, unsure what it was registering. But whatever was to happen, his heart was full of hope. He would forge his own path, and his parents, no matter how much he loved them, would either accept it or not. Of heat, of touch, of the sun kissing his face. He dreamed of unknown freedoms, of hot skin, of the fragrant summer air. But it didn’t matter, since he always made up his own songs in his head, and the more in tune with music he was, the less he needed to focus on motion, sinking deeper into his mind instead.
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