The wind roared in Leo's ears as he sped through the empty back roads, heart still pounding from what had just happened.
He couldn't stop laughing.
Not the mocking, sarcastic laugh he usually gave his teachers or his parents—but the kind of laugh that spilled out when your chest couldn't contain excitement.
"Did you see that?!" he yelled to no one, grinning like a maniac inside his helmet. "She looked at me. She actually looked at me!"
He didn't even care how ridiculous he sounded.
His cheeks hurt from smiling.
It was the stupidest thing—just one second, one accidental eye contact—but Leo felt like he had just survived a car crash and won the lottery at the same time.
"I freaking panicked!" he shouted again, still laughing.
He pulled the throttle harder, tires screeching slightly as he turned into the alleyway that led to an old garage tucked behind a row of abandoned buildings.
The "clubhouse."
The guys were all there—Evan, Raka, Dimas, and Anton—sitting on crates and makeshift benches, blasting music from a rusty speaker while eating instant noodles and playing cards.
Raka looked up when he heard the familiar engine. "Look who decided to show up."
Leo pulled off his helmet, hair wild, eyes glowing with leftover adrenaline. "You guys won't believe what just happened."
Evan raised a brow. "You crash again?"
"No." Leo parked the bike and walked toward them. "Better."
"Wait," Anton smirked. "Don't tell me—Leo finally got laid?"
"Shut up." Leo tossed his gloves on a chair and sat down. "It's serious."
Now they were paying attention.
Leo rarely said anything was serious.
"I saw this girl," he began, eyes still a bit wild.
"Oh no," Dimas muttered. "Here we go."
"No, I mean it!" Leo ran a hand through his hair. "She wasn't like the others. She wasn't trying to be pretty or cute or whatever. She didn't even notice me at first. She just… stood there."
Evan leaned forward. "Where?"
"By the front gate of some senior high school near the east side. Same spot as yesterday."
"You've been to a school?" Anton blinked. "Are you okay?"
Leo ignored him. "She was standing under this tree. Alone. Headphones on. Not moving, not talking. Just... there."
"And then?" Raka asked, grinning.
"And then..." Leo looked down at the floor, chuckling at himself. "She turned. Our eyes met. I panicked and freaking ran."
They all burst out laughing.
"Wait—you ran?" Evan cackled. "Leo Reinhart got nervous because a girl looked at him?"
Leo smiled, embarrassed but still buzzing. "I don't know what the hell happened. I just—her eyes man. They weren't normal."
"Maybe she's a witch," Dimas offered helpfully.
Anton wiped a fake tear. "I can't breathe, bro. This is gold."
Leo didn't care if they laughed.
He wanted to talk about her. He needed to get the thoughts out of his head before they drove him insane.
"She didn't look at me like a fan. Not like most girls. She looked at me like…" He paused, searching for the word. "Like she didn't care who I was. Like I was just noise to her."
The group quieted for a second.
Then Evan said, "Damn. That's cold."
"And now you can't stop thinking about her?" Raka asked.
Leo nodded. "Couldn't even sleep last night. She's in my head like some kind of virus."
Anton leaned back. "You're obsessed, dude."
"I know."
Dimas whistled. "All this over one look."
Leo shrugged. "I don't get it either."
Raka smirked. "Well… what are you gonna do about it?"
Leo didn't answer.
Not yet.
The sun was already dipping low when Leo decided to leave the clubhouse.
The guys were still joking around, arguing about card rules, and throwing chips at each other like nothing had changed—but something had changed for Leo.
He waved them off and revved his motor again, the familiar vibration beneath him giving him just enough grounding to think clearly.
Well… clearer.
The air was cool now, the evening breeze brushing past his cheeks as he sped through the streets, but instead of letting it calm him, he was buzzing again.
He replayed the moment in his head, over and over.
Her gaze.
Those eyes.
Even now, hours later, his stomach twisted just thinking about it.
He had been looked at in a thousand ways by a thousand people—curious, scared, impressed, even disgusted—but never like that.
Never indifferent.
That alone made her unforgettable.
---
By the time he got home, the sky was dark.
The porch light was on, casting a warm yellow glow on the front steps. Leo parked the bike quietly, took off his helmet, and walked into the house.
He didn't expect his parents to still be awake, and they weren't.
The house was silent.
He kicked his shoes off at the door, padded across the wooden floor, and went straight up to his room.
His jacket landed on the chair. His shirt landed somewhere near the foot of the bed.
The room was dim, lit only by a small desk lamp, but Leo didn't bother turning on the main lights.
He stood there for a second, staring at the wall in front of him, as if expecting it to say something back.
Nothing, of course.
But her face was still there—in his mind—burned into every corner of his consciousness.
He ran a hand through his hair and collapsed onto his bed, arms stretched out like he'd just finished a marathon.
"God," he muttered to himself. "I'm losing it."
He glanced toward his sketchbook across the room.
He didn't draw again tonight. No need.
He could already see her image with his eyes closed.
Leo turned onto his side, resting his cheek on the pillow, the faint sound of the night wind whistling through the open window.
His phone buzzed again.
Another message.
> Evan: "Still thinking about Miss Ice Queen?"
Leo didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Instead, he stared at the ceiling again, thoughts loud in the silence.
---
What if she's there again tomorrow?
Would she notice him?
Would she look at him the same way?
Would she ignore him completely?
And more importantly—would he have the guts to actually talk to her this time?
He exhaled slowly.
He didn't know what her name was.
Didn't know what her voice sounded like.
Didn't even know if she ever smiled.
But tomorrow...
He was going to find out.
Even if his legs shook.
Even if his throat dried up.
Even if she looked at him like he was the biggest idiot on Earth.
He had to know.
He had to know her name.
---
His voice was barely above a whisper as he rolled onto his back and murmured to the ceiling:
"I'm gonna ask her tomorrow."
A pause.
Then a small, determined nod to no one but himself.
"I swear."
He closed his eyes, and for the first time in days, the image of her didn't make his chest hurt—it made it beat faster, steady and sure.
And then, quietly, peacefully…
Leo Reinhart fell asleep.