Chapter 216: Noisy Emotion In Her Head

I pulled the bike over near the curb of a wide, quiet street lined with glowing streetlights. The city was completely still at this hour. Just off the sidewalk under a shop awning, a solitary vending machine buzzed softly, casting a warm blue glow onto the pavement.

I killed the engine, the low rumble dying out as we both unbuckled our helmets.

"Man, that cold air actually made me hungry," I said, swinging my leg off the bike and heading straight for the vending machine. "Midnight snack time."

May ran a hand through her wind-blown hair, tossing her helmet onto the seat with a soft chuckle. "Ethan, I’m an elite athlete on a strict dietary regimen. I definitely shouldn’t be eating junk at three in the morning."

"Suit yourself," I shrugged, tapping the glass. "More for me."

She walked over slowly, leaning her shoulder against the side of the machine, watching as my eyes scanned the rows. Her resistance lasted all of five seconds before she pointed a slender finger at a dark chocolate nut bar on the top shelf.

"Okay, fine," she admitted with a slight pout. "If you’re buying... get that one. Dark chocolate has antioxidants, so it basically counts as recovery food."

"Right, total health food," I laughed, reaching into my wallet to grab some cash.

I pulled out the crisp bill at the front of my clip, only to freeze when I looked down. The lowest denomination I had on me was a crisp, single $100 bill.

I stared at the green paper, then looked up at the tiny, battered bill acceptor on the vending machine that explicitly read: $1 and $5 Bills Only.

"Uh... May," I said, holding up the $100 bill between two fingers. "Got any spare change? Because I don’t think this machine is going to give me ninety-eight dollars back in quarters."

Since neither of us had any smaller bills, I just shrugged and slid the $100 bill into the machine’s slot. It swallowed the crisp note, beeped, and immediately dropped the chocolate bar into the retrieval bin—leaving behind a mountain of dollar coins and quarters that poured into the change slot with a loud, metallic cascade.

May broke into a laugh, shaking her head as she picked up the chocolate bar. "Unbelievable. I guess I’m learning from the richest man alive. Throwing hundreds at a vending machine for a two-dollar candy bar."

"Hey, it got us the chocolate," I grinned, leaving the noisy pile of change right where it was.

We walked over to a nearby wooden bench under the soft glow of a streetlamp, sitting down together to share the bar. The street was dead silent, the cool early-morning air wrapping around us in total peace.

I took a bite, looking over at her. "So... what’s really on your mind, May?"

She froze for a split second, her eyes flickering over to me. For a moment, it looked like she was finally going to spill whatever was locked deep inside her chest. But then she hesitated, swerving at the last second to hide behind her usual sports cover.

"It’s... it’s the race," she muttered, staring down at her lap. "I’m just worried I won’t actually get my record back. That I’ve lost my edge."

"Why?" I asked softly. "You know what you’re capable of."

"Because it’s different this time, Ethan," she said, her voice growing strained as she tried to put it into words. "It’s like... my brain is completely messed up right now. Every time I get on the blocks, my head feels full of noise. I can’t lock in like I used to."

I pressed further, trying to get a clear answer out of her. "What kind of noise, May? Is it pressure? Is it fear?"

"I don’t know!" she snapped softly, throwing her hands up in utter frustration. "I can’t explain it, okay?! I just... I can’t!"

Seeing her get so frustrated with herself broke my heart. I leaned in close, reaching out my hand to gently cup her chin, tilting her face up so her eyes met mine. As I held her gaze, my thumb brushed against the corner of her lips, smudging off a small stain of chocolate from her cheek.

With my other hand, I reached down and took her hand in mine, squeezing it tight.

"Hey," I said, my voice dropping to a low, steady tone. "Look at me. You’re going to get through this. I don’t care what kind of noise is in your head, or how hard it feels right now—whatever it is, I’m right here with you. You don’t have to carry it alone."

May went completely silent.

She just stared deep into my eyes, her usual tough, bro-ish facade entirely stripping away to reveal someone intensely vulnerable. Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening around mine just a fraction.

Sitting there under the quiet streetlight, holding her hand while she looked at me like that, something clicked in my mind. The way she had been fighting to keep her distance on the bike, the way her head was cluttered, the way she couldn’t bring herself to explain the "noise" in her brain... it wasn’t just fear of losing on the track.

It was feelings. Feelings for me that she was desperately trying to suppress, fighting against them so hard that it fractured her focus on the starting line.

I could see the truth right there in her eyes, but I knew pressing her for a full confession right now would only make her retreat back into her shell. She needed room to process it.

I didn’t force it out of her. I just kept my grip gentle on her hand, giving her the space and safety she needed, ready to let her take the next step on her own time.

May blinked quickly, breaking our heavy eye contact as a faint blush dusted her cheeks under the streetlight. She snatched her hand back, crossing her arms tight over her chest in a desperate attempt to put her tough, bro-ish armor right back on.

"Jeez, Ethan, stop treating me like I’m some delicate little glass doll," she grumbled, clearing her throat and staring at the pavement. "I’m a athlete, not a drama queen."

I couldn’t help but chuckle softly at how fast she tried to retreat into her shell. "Hey, I’m just worried about you. Sue me."

May glanced back at me through her eyelashes, her posture softening just a fraction before she shook her head with a faint, fond smile.

"Come on," I said, standing up from the bench and stretching my arms. "Wanna continue our ride? This time you ride. I’ll hold onto you."

May looked up at me, her eyes lighting up with that familiar, competitive spark. "Oh, now you want to trust my driving?"

"I always trusted your driving," I grinned, tossing her the keys. "Just don’t drop us."

"Please, I handle this bike ten times better than you do, city boy," she smirked, snatching the keys out of the air.

We walked back over to the powerbike. May swung her leg over the seat with natural, practiced ease, keying the ignition and bringing the engine back to a deep, resonant hum. She pulled her helmet on and strapped it securely before turning her head slightly toward me.

"Hop on," she said, her voice muffled behind her visor, though I could hear the smirk in her tone. "And you better hold on tight. I don’t drive like a beginner."

I swung onto the back behind her, wrapping my arms firmly around her waist. I felt her frame tense up for just a split second at the contact, but instead of pulling away or acting stiff, she let out a smooth exhale, settled into the seat, and kicked off into the cool pre-dawn air.