First Connection
Emma's POV
The first message from Lucas came the very next day, right after I swiped right. I wasn't expecting much, but when I saw his name light up on my screen, I felt a twinge of curiosity. His message was simple, but it stood out.
"Hey, Emma. I'm not much for small talk, so I'll just say your profile caught my eye. I liked the picture of your sketchbook. Do you draw a lot?"I stared at my phone, surprised he'd picked up on something so small. Most guys usually started with a compliment or something generic. But Lucas had noticed my sketchbook. It made me smile.
"I do, actually," I typed back. "It's mostly a hobby. I like to unwind that way. What about you? Do you really restore motorcycles, or was that just to sound cool?"
His response came almost immediately, like he'd been waiting. "Guilty. It's true, though! I've been restoring bikes for a few years now. There's something satisfying about bringing something old back to life. Guess you could say I'm an old soul."
His answer was charming, and I couldn't help but laugh. He didn't try to impress me with exaggerated stories. He was just... real.
"I bet you've got a garage full of half-restored bikes then?" I teased, imagining him covered in grease, surrounded by old motorcycles.
"Exactly!" he replied. "You'd be surprised how many projects I've started and haven't finished. But hey, it keeps me busy."
Our conversation flowed easily after that. We talked about everything—art, books, music. He was funny too, slipping in little jokes that made me laugh more than I expected.
"You seem like the type who'd have an opinion on pineapple pizza," he said randomly at one point.
I groaned. "Don't even get me started. Pineapple has no place on pizza. It's an abomination."
"Thank you!" he replied, a string of laughing emojis following. "I knew you had good taste."
Before I knew it, we were messaging daily, our chats filled with jokes and stories about our lives.
But no matter how much fun I was having, there was always this lingering fear in the back of my mind. I knew how these things usually went. At some point, he'd want more than just messages. He'd want to see me.
And that's when it always fell apart.
