motorcycle man 💕😍

I stare at my ceiling, the familiar comfort of my plushies scattered around me, but boredom is slowly creeping in. Usually, when I'm bored, I'd throw on a movie with my boyfriend or snack on something. But tonight? Tonight’s different. I don’t feel like doing anything. Just… staring at the same four walls.

"PING!"

The sudden buzz of my phone breaks through the monotony. I glance down and see a message from someone I don't recognize: "skørg."

Who is this?

I frown and tap on the message. It reads: "Hey, do I know you at all?"

Ah. I must've added him as a friend at some point, I think, scrolling through my contacts.

The profile picture catches my eye. The guy in the photo is wearing a black leather jacket and tight jeans, exuding that effortlessly cool vibe. His brown hair is impossibly long—like, really long—and it looks so soft, I wonder how it would feel to run my fingers through it. He sports a clean mustache, no beard, just the kind of mustache that makes you think he might have a rebellious side. Oh, and he's got sunglasses on, like he's too cool for the sun.

I stare at his picture for a moment longer, trying to piece together why his name sounds vaguely familiar. My thumb hovers over the reply button, but I hesitate.

I take a deep breath and remind myself—I have a boyfriend. No reason to let this random message get to me. I need to keep this cool, just like any normal conversation. I tap out a response, trying to sound casual.

"Hey," I typed back, "my dad’s actually in a band called Lacerta, not sure if you know him."

Feeling a little proud of myself for steering the conversation in a direction that feels safe, I set my phone down on my bed. But even as the phone sits there, I feel the boredom creeping back in. I roll onto my side and stare at the wall, already wishing something—anything—would break the silence.

A few moments pass.

"PING!"

I snatch my phone up again. The message reads: "Not too sure, what’s your dad’s name?"

I stare at it for a second, biting my lip. The conversation is turning into something more… personal. And I wasn’t prepared for this. What’s my next move?

I quickly type out a response, feeling a bit embarrassed for not mentioning it earlier. Oh shoot, sorry, I forgot to say what his name is, it’s David, David Latham. I hit send, my finger hovering over the screen for a second as I wait for the reply.

"Skørg," I think to myself, staring at the name on the screen. Is that some kind of edgy stage name? A metal guy thing? Maybe he’s just one of those musicians who likes to sound mysterious or tough. The whole vibe of his profile—leather jacket, long hair, mustache—screams that he could be.

I lie back, pushing my phone aside, already feeling that familiar wave of boredom creeping back in. But I can't help wondering… why did he reach out to me in the first place?

"Skørg" texted back! My heart skips a beat as I grab my phone, my fingers almost trembling as I swipe to open the message. But as soon as I see his name on the screen, a wave of guilt washes over me. I have a boyfriend! My stomach tightens, and I suddenly feel like I’m doing something I shouldn’t be.

I force myself to read his message. "Oh yeah, I know him, we’ve hung out a couple of times. I’m in a band, by the way, called Restorr My Faith. Are you coming to the Melbourne gig? It says on your Facebook profile you are."

I stare at the message for a moment, my mind racing. Restorr My Faith. The name sounds familiar, but I can't place it. The mention of Melbourne immediately grabs my attention. I did post about going to the gig on my Facebook a few weeks ago. But now, with him texting me, it feels… different.