The low hum of the idling engines echoed off the empty gas station walls. It was just past midnight, the kind of night where the air carried a quiet chill, and the world seemed to slow down long enough for thoughts to catch up. Mason lit a cigarette, one boot resting against the concrete island, the other planted firm on the gravel. Across from him, Logan leaned against his bike, head tilted to the sky like he was waiting for the stars to answer something he hadn’t yet asked.

“You ever think we peaked already?” Mason muttered.

Logan chuckled. “Nah. Not yet. Maybe we’re just in the boring part of the montage. You know, the part right before something big happens.”

Mason took a drag and exhaled through his nose. “You think life’s supposed to be some movie?”

“Man, I hope it is. Otherwise, what the hell are we doing?”

There was a pause. The wind stirred dust and dead leaves across the lot.

“She texted again,” Mason said, quieter now.

Logan didn’t have to ask who she was. He just nodded and waited.

“Said she’s tired of being the one I hide,” Mason added, kicking at a rock with the toe of his boot.

“She knew what it was,” Logan said, shrugging. “Ain’t like you sold her a dream.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mason muttered. “You spend enough time with someone, give ‘em just enough of the good parts—they start rewriting the deal in their heads.”

Logan scratched his chin. “Is she rewriting it, or are you just starting to care more than you planned to?”

Mason turned to him, the flicker of the cigarette tip lighting the hard line of his jaw. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t answer that kind of text unless you’re feelin’ guilty.”

Mason didn’t respond right away. The truth was there—crawling under his skin like an itch he couldn’t reach. Her name was Rae. And she’d started as nothing but a distraction. A fine-ass woman with smart eyes and a body that didn’t quit. But somewhere between the backseat kisses and hotel-room confessions, she started slipping past his defenses.

The problem was, she wasn’t the main girl. She never had been.

That title still technically belonged to Camille—his on-and-off for three years, the one his mom still asked about, the one who fit neatly into family dinners and Facebook pictures. Camille was clean, presentable, stable. Rae was none of that. Rae was wildfire. Rae made him forget what day it was. Rae made him want to forget.

“I told her I couldn’t give her more,” Mason said, more to himself now.

Logan nodded. “But you kept showing up.”

Another pause.

“Yeah,” Mason admitted.

Logan sighed and pushed off his bike. “You want me to lie to you, or tell you what you already know?”

Mason smirked. “Give me the ugly truth.”

“You can’t keep Rae in the shadows and expect her not to reach for the light. She ain’t the type to wait around.”

Mason nodded, finishing his cigarette and flicking it into the gravel. The ember danced out like a spark losing steam.

“She said she’d leave,” he said. “Said I either choose her, or stop pretending like she don’t exist.”

Logan crossed his arms. “And what did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“That is an answer.”

The sound of a car passing in the distance filled the silence. Mason stared out into the dark road ahead, wondering how something as simple as love always got so complicated.

“She’s not just some girl anymore,” he admitted, voice low. “I think I caught feelings and now I don’t know what to do with ‘em.”

Logan gave a half-smile. “You could start by being honest. Either tell Rae you’re never gonna leave Camille, or walk away from the one you’re just keepin’ for comfort.”

Mason flinched at that. “Camille’s… safe.”

“Safe’s not the same as real.”

The words hung between them.

Eventually, Logan walked over and clapped Mason on the shoulder. “You keep chasing comfort, you’ll miss the fire. Up to you which one you can’t live without.”

Later that night

Mason pulled up outside Rae’s apartment. Her porch light was on, like it always was when she was mad but still wanted him to come in. He sat on his bike for a long moment, engine silent, staring at the cracked window near her living room—the one he’d helped her tape up after some drunk neighbor threw a bottle at it.

He knocked.

When Rae opened the door, she didn’t say anything. She just leaned against the frame in an oversized T-shirt and a cold stare.

“You came,” she said flatly.

“I did.”

“You here to say goodbye again? Or did you come to lie a little prettier this time?”

Mason exhaled. “I came to tell the truth.”

She crossed her arms.

“You deserve more than what I’ve given you,” he said. “And if I had any decency, I’d let you go.”

“But?”

“But I don’t wanna.”

Her expression faltered for a second, then returned, harder. “And Camille?”

“She’s part of the old version of me. The one who smiled for pictures and played house.”

“And me?”

“You’re the part that feels real.”

Rae laughed once—sharp and bitter. “You’re saying that now. But when it’s messy, when I’m not fun, when I need something from you you can’t hide from—will I still be real then?”

He took a step closer. “I’m scared as hell, Rae. But I want to find out.”

Her guard wavered, just a little.

“You want to be the main girl?” he asked.

She tilted her head.

“I’m telling you now—if you say yes, that’s it. I’m not gonna half-love you anymore. I’m not gonna keep anyone else in my pocket. It’ll just be you and me. Raw, stupid, hard… but real.”

Rae studied him for a long time. Then she stepped aside and let him in.

Back at the gas station

Logan watched the horizon, headlights cutting through the dark. When Mason’s bike roared back into view an hour later, Logan just nodded once.

“Well?” he called out over the engine.

Mason parked beside him and killed the motor. He had a bruise blooming under one eye and a small smile he didn’t even try to hide.

“She threw a bottle,” he said.

“Sounds like love.”

“Feels like it.”

Logan tossed him a cold beer from the saddlebag cooler. Mason caught it, popped the cap, and sat on the curb beside his best friend.

The night was still.

But something about it felt like the beginning