Xev Bellringer Ride //top\\ May 2026

The road begins to curve—long, lazy arcs at first, then tighter switchbacks that force me to shift my weight, to press my knee into the tank, to remember his instructions. Look through the turn. Trust the bike. Don’t brake in the apex.

We end up tangled in the motel sheets, the window cracked open to let in the cool night air, his heartbeat pressed against my ribs. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t pull away. For once, he stays in the room.

I don’t knock. I don’t even turn off the bike. I just sit there in the growing dark, watching the thin strip of light under his door.