ADDICTED TO THE THRILL

"Fine," I said, folding my arms and staring him down, "I write because I want to. And there's freedom there — keeping people addicted to the thrill."

Leo tilted his head, that stupidly amused look back on his face. "Addicted, huh? Sounds dangerous."

"Only if you have something to hide," I shot back.

He grinned. "Good thing I don't."

"Yeah, sure," I said, rolling my eyes. "You just mysteriously show up at our school, ride around on a motorcycle, and somehow know my name and my brother. Totally normal."

"Normal's boring," he said simply. "And I think we both know you hate boring."

He wasn't wrong, but I wasn't about to admit it.

"So what about you?" I challenged. "What's your thrill, Leo?"

His eyes flicked toward me, dark and unreadable. "I like the chase."

I froze. "The… chase?"

He stepped closer, and suddenly the space between us felt a little too small. "The way people act when they think no one's watching. The secrets they try to keep. The truth they never say out loud." His voice dropped lower. "That's the real thrill."

My heart was pounding. And not from fear. Which was very inconvenient.

"Sounds like a stalker thing," I managed to say.

He laughed softly. "Says the girl who runs an anonymous gossip blog."

Touche.

For a second, we just stood there — his eyes locked on mine, the wind tugging at my hair, and the night way too quiet around us.

"Why me?" I asked before I could stop myself. "Why all the questions? Why pay attention to me?"

He didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than I expected. "Because you're the only person who looks at me like I'm a puzzle instead of a problem."

Well. That wasn't fair.

"Don't go getting sentimental on me now," I said, trying to sound unaffected.

"Too late." He smiled — that slow, dangerous one that made my knees feel untrustworthy.

I needed air. Or distance. Or both.

"I should go," I said quickly, stepping back. "It's late."

"I'll take you home," he offered, and the way he said it — like it was a promise — made my pulse skip.

We rode back in silence, the hum of the motorcycle filling the space between us. And maybe I should've been relieved when we pulled up outside my house. But when I climbed off the bike and handed him the helmet, part of me didn't want the night to end.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, hoping my voice sounded normal.

He just watched me, his eyes flicking over my face like he was trying to figure something out. "Night, Curious Girl."

I hated how much I liked the way he said that.

When I finally got inside, my phone buzzed.

Bill: Did he kill you? Should I call the cops?

Me: Still alive. No need for the dramatics.

Bill: I knew you'd come back in love.

Me: Goodnight, Bill.

I tossed my phone aside and flopped onto my bed, but sleep didn't come easy. Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the sound of his voice out of my head.

"Night, Curious Girl."

I was so doomed.

*-*

I stared at my laptop, fingers hovering over the keys. I shouldn't post anything. Not about him. Not again.

But the words were already forming — sharp, reckless, impossible to resist.

> [Pink Savage Exclusive]

Well, well, well… it looks like our favorite new bad boy is more than just a pretty face and a motorcycle. Turns out, there's a little mystery under all that leather and attitude — and you know how much we love a good mystery.

But here's the real question, Savage readers: What's his deal? Because after a little… let's call it research, one thing's for sure — Leo isn't just here to blend in.

He likes the attention. Thrives on it, even. And let's be honest — who wouldn't, when they look like that? But something tells me there's more to his story. The kind of more that gets people talking.

So what are you hiding, Motorcycle Boy? Because if there's one thing Pink Savage does best, it's finding the truth. And trust me — I'm just getting started. 💋

I hit post before I could think twice — and immediately regretted it.

Or maybe I didn't.

The notifications started rolling in instantly. Comments. DMs. Everyone lived for the drama. And if I was being honest… so did I.

But as I stared at the screen, one thought nagged at me.

Bill was right.

I wasn't just writing about Leo because he was the new shiny distraction. I was writing about him because I couldn't stop thinking about him.

And that was dangerous.

So when my phone buzzed a few minutes later, my heart jumped — because I already knew who it was.

Unknown Number: You really can't help yourself, can you?

I swallowed hard.

Me: How did you get my number?!

Unknown Number: Told you, Curious Girl. I have my ways.

I should've been annoyed. But instead, I was smiling like an idiot.

I was so, so doomed.