As the door closed behind Daniel and Matt, Sam felt a strange mix of relief and anticipation settle in her chest. She sat back in the booth, trying to calm her nerves. The bar was quieter now, just a few stragglers nursing the last of their beers, and she could hear the faint clinking of glasses as the bartender took care of closing duties. The place would be shutting down soon, but Sam had stayed behind for a reason.
Across the room, the bartender was finishing up with a couple paying their tab, smiling politely as she took their cash. The woman glanced in Sam's direction, and when their eyes met, the bartender's smile shifted—softening, almost as if she'd been waiting for this moment.
Sam's heart fluttered, and she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips in return.
With the bar nearly empty and no rush left to tend to, the bartender made her way to the counter and poured two drinks. Sam watched her. There was something mesmerizing about her. The casual confidence in the way she moved, the way her forearms flexed as she worked.
But also the care she seemed to take as she glanced back at her, as if checking to make sure Sam was still comfortable.
When the bartender finally approached the booth, she paused just shy of sitting down, holding the two glasses in her hands. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with a playful edge, like she was already teasing out the space between them. She wasn't pushing, though—her eyes were warm, and she seemed to be waiting for Sam to give her permission.
Sam grinned, her nerves easing as she nodded. "I'd like that."
The bartender returned the smile, sliding into the booth—but instead of sitting across from Sam, she chose the spot next to her. The move was forward, yes, but it wasn't overly bold. She sat close enough for Sam to feel the warmth of her presence, but not so close that it felt overwhelming. There was still space between them, enough for Sam to decide if she wanted to close the gap.
"I brought us some sodas," the bartender said, setting one glass in front of Sam. "We're past the time for alcohol anyway." She nodded toward the door where Sam had parked her motorcycle. "I figured you should probably stay sober, given your ride home."
Sam chuckled softly, appreciating both the thoughtfulness and the gentle way the bartender seemed to be looking out for her. "Good call," she said, taking the drink and swirling the straw absentmindedly. "Thank you. I would have hated to say no to sharing a drink with you."
Leaning back slightly, she studied Sam with a mixture of curiosity and something warmer. "I didn't want to assume," she murmured, her voice lowering as if they were sharing a secret, "but I was kind of hoping you'd stick around."
Sam's breath caught, her pulse quickening as she met the bartender's gaze. There was something so easy about this—no pressure, no games, just the soft hum of interest between them. It was flirting, sure, but done with care, always checking to make sure Sam was comfortable with every step.
"I did want to stay," Sam admitted, feeling a little more confident now, though her voice was still soft. "I… liked talking to you earlier."
The bartender's smile widened just a fraction, her eyes brightening with warmth. "I liked talking to you too," she replied, leaning in just a bit more. "Though I think we got interrupted before we could really get to know each other."
Heat crept up Sam's neck but she didn't pull back. Instead, she let herself relax, taking a sip of her soda to give herself a moment to gather her thoughts. The closeness wasn't uncomfortable; it was… nice. So achingly nice.
"You're… different," Sam said quietly, the words falling out unpolished but sincere. She wasn't sure how else to express it. She didn't mean it as a cliché pickup line.
The bartender chuckled softly, her eyes flicking down to the table for a moment before meeting Sam's gaze again. "Different how?" she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice, but Sam could tell she was genuinely curious.
"Just…" Sam hesitated, searching for the right words. "I guess you're not what I expected. You feel … safe? But not in the boring way."
The bartender tilted her head, clearly enjoying Sam's honesty. "That sounds like it's a good thing?"
The tension drained out of Sam completely. "Definitely a good thing."
Once more, the woman's smile softened, and she reached for her own soda, taking a small sip. She stayed quiet for a moment, letting the comfortable silence settle between them. Her hand rested on the table, close enough that if Sam wanted to, she could reach out and close the distance. But she didn't push, didn't rush anything. She was letting Sam set the pace, and Sam appreciated it more than she could say.
Not giving herself the chance to overthink this, Sam reached out and gently took the other woman's hand. Their fingers slid together easily, the connection natural. A rush of warmth flooded through the soldier at the simple contact.
The bartender's reaction was immediate. Her grin widened, clearly pleased with Sam's boldness. There was no mistaking the spark in her eyes now, the subtle amusement mixing with something deeper. "Well, look at you," she said softly, her voice teasing but affectionate. "Confident, huh?"
Sam didn't pull back; she tightened her grip, feeling Mel's thumb glide slowly over her knuckles in a way that was deliberate, intentional.
"I'm working on it," Sam said, her voice quieter now, but there was no hesitation in her words.
The bartender smiled, clearly enjoying the moment. "You're doing pretty damn well," she murmured, her gaze never leaving Sam's.
For a moment, neither of them said anything, the silence between them thick but not uncomfortable. Sam's hand stayed in the bartender's, their fingers still intertwined on the table.
"You know, I don't think I ever introduced myself properly. I'm Melanie, but you can call me Mel. Or," she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a soft, playful whisper, "you can call me 'darling' whenever you feel ready for that."
Warm brown eyes searched hers, gauging if she had overstepped. Gods knew she hadn't. A shiver run down Sam's spine at the way Mel's voice slid over the word darling. Her breath hitched, and when the bartender leant back, Sam followed.
"Mel," Sam said softly, almost testing the name on her lips. It felt good to say, like they'd already crossed a line into something more intimate. And the way Mel smiled when she said it made Sam's heart skip a beat.
"I like the way you say my name," Mel said, her voice carrying that same warm, teasing edge. "I could get used to it."
Something eased around Sam's chest and she laughed softly. "Well, you'll probably hear it again."
Mel's grin deepened, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Good. Because I'm not letting you run off just yet." She shifted a little closer, still holding Sam's hand, her fingers continuing to lightly caress her skin.
"So," the woman started, turning to face Sam and leaning against the backrest with her shoulder. Her head tilted in contemplation, "you really in the Air Force, huh? What's that like? Boot camp and all that?"
Blinking, Sam needed a moment to adjust to the change in conversation. She took a sip of her soda, thinking back to those early days of training. "Yeah, boot camp was… intense," she said with a small laugh. "A lot of screaming, a lot of running. Pretty much what you'd expect. But I made it through." She shrugged. "Still a sausage fest, though. Too many guys trying to act like they're all that."
When Mel grinned at that, her lips curling into a smile that made her dark eyes glint in the low light of the bar, Sam couldn't stop her gaze from dropping to her soft lips.
"I can imagine. Bet they didn't know what hit them when you walked in."
In the back of the bar, the dim light almost made it feel like Sam had stepped into another world. Gone through the wormhole and this world was just her and Mel and it felt so right to talk to her. "Yeah, something like that. It's still a challenge sometimes. You've got to fight twice as hard to be taken seriously, especially as a woman." Sam glanced at Mel, taking in the way her shirt enunciated her wide, muscular shoulders without seeming like Mel had chosen it to show off her assets. She certainly must work out and Sam quickly shook her head before she could imagine Mel breathless at the gym with sweat covering her forehead and that easy grin of hers. "Did you ever think about joining? With your brothers and all?"
A soft sigh escaped across the table, followed by the quiet clink of Mel's glass as she took a slow sip. "I thought about it, sure. There was always this pressure, you know? Family tradition, all that. My father was in the military and my grandmother served as a mechanic in the Women Army Corps during World War two. Both my grandfathers served too. But in the end…" She shrugged, her broad shoulders lifting slightly. "I didn't have the drive to go through all that knowing I would have to hide who I am. I respect the hell out of people who can, like you, but I couldn't do it."
Fingers traced the rim of the glass in front of her, circling over the smooth, cool edge. A part of her wanted to keep Mel's focus, wanted to share without hesitation, but some parts of her story never came easy. "I know what you mean," the words came out quieter than intended, layered with more than just understanding. Choosing the right words felt like balancing on the edge of a steep drop. "When I first joined up, I didn't really… know."
"That sounds exhausting," Mel said, her voice soft and full of understanding, pulling Sam back into the moment.
A small nod carried the weight of all those years. "It was," she admitted. "For a long time, I thought maybe I just hadn't met the right guy yet. There's this script you're supposed to follow, right? Go to school, focus on a career, maybe get married, have kids." Her fingers drummed lightly, memories of her early drive and ambitions flashing by. "But for me, it was always the career. Becoming an astronaut—that was my goal."
The words seemed to stop Mel mid-thought, her brow lifting with a quiet awe. "An astronaut?"
A hint of a grin spread across her lips, enjoying Mel's reaction. "I have a Ph.D. in astrophysics."
"Damn," came the muttered reply, Mel's eyes wide with appreciation. "You're way smarter than I am."
The compliment drew a soft laugh, a flush warming her cheeks. "I wouldn't say that," she replied, her grin widening. "I just... always had this fascination with space—it was hard not to fall in love with it. But it's a lot more math and physics than anything glamorous." She paused, shrugging modestly. "It took years of studying and a lot of sleepless nights, but it's where my passion's always been. I guess I was just stubborn enough to stick with it. I buried myself in the work, pushed through everything because if I could just get there—if I could make it into space—nothing else would matter. All the expectations, the doubts, the confusion about what I was feeling… it would all fall away."
Pained understanding furrowed Mel's brow, her eyes never leaving Sam's. "But it didn't, did it?"
Sam shook her head. "No. It took me until my mid-twenties to really figure it out. I remember thinking for so long that I just needed to be more focused, more driven. I told myself I didn't have time for relationships. And that worked—for a while. But then there were these moments, these little flashes where I'd notice women. Not in the way I'd been taught to, though. It was more than admiration, but I pushed it down. I didn't want to deal with what it meant."
Her eyes flicked up, suddenly uncertain. Maybe she was saying too much, maybe weighing the conversation down with more than Mel had bargained for. A hesitation slowed her words, waiting, scanning for any hint of impatience or disinterest in the gaze across from her. But there was none. Mel's attention stayed on her, completely engaged, her expression carrying nothing but openness. If anything, Mel looked completely engaged, like she was hanging on to every word Sam was saying, like she wanted to be right here, in this moment with her. Her hand, still wrapped around Sam's, squeezed gently, encouraging her to keep going.
She paused, her fingers unconsciously tightening around Mel's. "I think deep down I always knew. But it took me so long to reconcile it. When I finally admitted to myself that I liked women, it was like this huge piece of the puzzle clicked into place, but at the same time... it felt like I was staring at a new set of challenges."
This time it was Mel's turn to laugh slightly and shake her head. "It was difficult for me and I figured it out when I was still in high school. Having a gay older brother certainly helped and I already knew how my family and friends would react. It's not easy. I can't imagine how it must have been for you."
Sam swallowed hard, pushing past the knot in her throat. "It's not. And I can't claim, I don't still struggle with it. I still find myself looking over my shoulder, worrying about who might see me, who might talk. Even tonight, I felt that old panic creeping in when Daniel showed up."
"Damn, now I feel honoured. I would never have guessed that you were nervous. You acted so sure when you flirted with me earlier. Sexy, intelligent, and brave—that's a hell of a combination."
"It's not hard to flirt when you are standing behind the bar. Especially when you were so easy to talk to. It felt right, and I didn't want to let that go."
It had been all too easy. With her wild soft waves of hair framing Mel's face, her eyes deep, almost black, but with a warm, playful glint that sparkled under the dim lights, she'd instantly drawn Sam's attention. And then her smile had been so disarmingly charming, and there was an undeniable confidence in the way she carried herself, a kind of casual strength that Sam found irresistibly attractive.
Her gaze drifted down to Mel's lips again, the soft curve inviting and tantalizing, and Sam's tongue darted out to brush over her own lips. Opening up to this woman had been so easy, felt so natural and everything about her pulled Sam in.
And then Mel leaned in, just slightly, her lips curving into a wicked smile that made Sam's breath catch. "You're still thinking about your friend Daniel, or are you thinking about something a little more… fun?" Mel's voice was teasing, her words dipped in challenge, and Sam couldn't help the grin that tugged at her lips.
"Definitely something more fun," she shot back, her voice low, daring Mel to keep going.
Mel's grin widened, and without missing a beat, she shifted her hand, her fingers sliding up Sam's wrist and forearm in a slow, lingering caress. The move was forward, deliberate, and it sent a shiver of desire racing down Sam's spine. Her pulse quickened, and she could feel the heat of Mel's touch lingering even after her fingers moved on.
Sam's heart hammered in her chest, her breath shallow as she locked eyes with Mel. Anticipation charged the air, and Sam knew exactly where this was heading.
"Sam," Mel said softly, her voice a low hum as she leaned in closer. Her lips were just inches from Sam's ear now, and the warmth of her breath sent another shiver coursing through her. "You okay?"
Sam's response came out in a quiet, breathless laugh. "Better than okay."
Mel's thumb traced slow, tantalizing patterns over Sam's skin at the crook of her elbow, sending shivers up her spine. Her entire body seemed to vibrate. Then, as if reading the tension perfectly, Mel leaned forward, her lips brushing lightly against Sam's jaw. The touch was feather-light, but it set Sam on fire, her body instinctively leaning into the warmth of Mel's presence.
Without waiting for a response, Mel let her lips trail down toward Sam's neck, each press of her mouth deliberate, teasing. Sam's breath hitched, her eyes fluttering shut for just a second as she felt the warm press of Mel's lips at her pulse point.
The sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of desire rippling through Sam. She barely registered that her free hand had moved of its own accord, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she tried to steady herself.
Mel's voice, low and sultry, whispered in her ear. "May I kiss you?"
Time seemed to still. The tension between them was unbearable, and yet, the way Mel asked—so confident, but still waiting for Sam's permission—sent a thrill of anticipation through her. She turned her head just slightly, meeting Mel's gaze.
"Please," Sam breathed.
And then Mel's lips were on hers. It started soft—exploratory, slow—but quickly deepened as both of them gave in to the intensity between them. Sam's fingers slid around Mel's waist, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more urgent. She tasted hot and safe and like the soda they'd just drunk and Sam let out a quiet sound. Mel's breath hitched, pushing closer, her hand slipping into Sam's hair, the other resting against her neck, her thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind Sam's ear in a way that made her knees weak. She could get lost in this, in her—and for once, Sam let herself surrender to the moment.
Sam didn't care about who might be watching, didn't care about the consequences that usually weighed on her mind. All she cared about, in that moment, was the intoxicating feeling of Mel's lips on hers. Her hand trailed up, caressing that wonderful dip of Mel's waist and the woman melted into her.
They pulled away after what felt like an eternity but also not long enough, both of them breathing heavily, lips still just barely touching. Sam couldn't help but grin, the euphoria of the moment flooding through her. Then she laughed, a soft, genuine laugh that felt like it had been buried inside her for far too long. Without thinking, she buried her face in the crook of Mel's neck, pressing her nose against the soft curls, her laughter muffled by the warmth that smelt of the sweat and sweet, spilt alcohol of an almost finished shift.
Mel chuckled too, clearly enjoying the moment, her fingers sliding down to gently massage the back of Sam's neck, holding her close. "That was amazing," she murmured, her voice rough with affection and a touch of playful disbelief. "I've wanted to kiss you since the second you walked in here, looking all kinds of stunning in that leather."
Sam's laugh grew, still muffled against Mel's hair, but when she pulled back enough to meet her eyes, her expression had shifted into something more teasing, her lips curling into a grin. "You mean while I was eating? Were you just sitting there wondering if I dedicate that much attention to everything I do?"
Laughter erupted from Mel, her deep, rich voice reverberating through Sam's chest, making the moment even more intoxicating. "I might've been thinking that, yeah." Her eyes sparkled with amusement, though the desire hadn't left them. "But if that's true… damn, I'm in for something special."
A playful grin spread across Sam's face as she leaned back slightly. "Well, I'm always dedicated when I'm eating out," she said, lowering her voice just enough to add a teasing edge. "I always make sure to leave only satisfaction."
Surprise flashed in Mel's eyes and a disbelieving laugh before she shook her head and groaned in mock frustration, her lips quirking into a wicked smile. "You're killing me," she said, shaking her head. "Now I'm really sad I have to wait to find that out."
With an eyebrow raised, Sam leaned in as if to kiss her again, only to pause just inches from her lips. "Why wait?" she asked, her voice a sultry whisper.
Yet Mel's smile softened, and she leaned back slightly, just enough to create a sliver of space between them. "Because," she said, her tone gentle but firm, "I don't do one-night stands. Especially not with gorgeous Air Force women I really like and hope to get to know better."
The teasing smile faded from Sam's face, replaced by something more genuine, her heart skipping a beat at Mel's sincerity. It was refreshing to encounter such directness, the confidence Mel exuded in knowing what she wanted and setting clear boundaries without hesitation..
"I'd like that too," Sam admitted, her voice quiet but filled with truth. She hadn't expected any of this, not tonight—not this connection, this warmth. But now that it was happening, she didn't want it to end.
Mel's face lit up at Sam's words, and in an instant, she leaned in and kissed her again—this time slower, deeper, but just as passionate. Sam melted into the kiss, her hands sliding back to Mel's waist, holding her close. The kiss felt like a reward, a promise of more to come, and Sam couldn't help but smile into it, feeling a sense of rightness settle over her.
When they finally pulled apart again, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other's.
As the kiss ended, their breathing slowed, and Sam felt a soft, tingling warmth in the aftermath. Mel pulled back just slightly, her forehead still resting lightly against Sam's, as if neither of them were quite ready to part.
"That was perfect," Mel whispered.
As if to pull them out, the sound of a small bell sounded and, with a sudden realization, Mel jerked upright, her eyes wide.
"Crap," she muttered, glancing over her shoulder toward the bar. "I'm still on the clock." With a frustrated huff, she squeezed Sam's hand before letting go, her fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. "I've got to settle tabs and close up. I'm so sorry."
With a chuckle, Sam watched as Mel slipped out of the booth, moving with quick, graceful efficiency. "Go be responsible. I'll be here," Sam teased, leaning back against the worn leather of the seat, her heart still pounding in her chest.
Mel shot her a wink over her shoulder as she moved back to the bar, grabbing a tray and cleaning up with a practiced hand. Sam stayed where she was, nursing her soda, but her gaze never strayed far from Mel. She couldn't help but admire the way she moved—tall, confident, and sure. Every now and then, Mel would catch her staring and smile, sending a flutter of something dangerous through Sam's chest.
As the bar slowly emptied out, Sam found herself glancing toward the door, thinking about leaving and letting the night end on a high note. But she couldn't. She wanted more. She didn't want the connection they'd shared to be cut short by the rush of everyday life.
Mel wiped down the last table, glanced around, and then met Sam's eyes. There was a question in her gaze, and Sam gave her a small smile as she grabbed her helmet from the bench beside her.
As she approached the bar, the last patron finished his payment. With a huff, he raised a hand and trudged out the door, leaving Mel free again. Their eyes met, and Sam's heart skipped a beat as they shared a smile that felt charged with the promise of what had just happened.
"Would you mind if I waited for you to close up?" Sam asked. "I don't want to rush off."
The slow, pleased grin that bloomed on Mel's face nearly took Sam's breath. "I wouldn't mind at all." She tossed her rag back behind the bar, clearly in no hurry to make her departure. "Just give me a minute."
With a nod, Sam paid and then headed outside to wait for Mel. The cool air felt refreshing on her cheeks after the warmth of the bar and she pressed her fingers against her cheeks, willing the blush to dissipate. It didn't, of course. She stood near her bike, taking in the stillness of the small-town parking lot, illuminated only by a dim streetlamp and the soft glow of the bar's neon sign.
While she waited, Sam jammed her hands into her pockets and tilted her head up. Clear and crisp, her view of the stars was unobstructed. How many of those stars had she seen as the sun in a different sky? In the beginning, Sam had still counted the worlds she'd visited but by now, there had been so many. Her life had turned out so differently than she'd expected.
"You really are a stargazer, aren't you?"
Lips curved into a smile and warmth settled in Sam's chest as she turned. Mel pulled the door to the bar closed and locked it before stepping to Sam's side. Her dark curls were loose now, falling wildly around her face, and she'd slung a leather jacket over her shoulder. She followed Sam's example and tilted her head up and Sam couldn't help but follow the curve of her neck, mouth going dry as she imagined pressing kisses against the soft expanse of skin. Her heart did that now-familiar skip.
Tilting her head up, Sam nodded. "How could I not be? Every one of these stars has a story. Each light could be a new world, waiting to be explored."
"Beautiful," Mel murmured.
"Yes."
A soft, dark chuckle. "I didn't mean the stars, Sam."
The flush returned and Sam looked down, almost loosing herself in Mel's dark eyes. For a moment, they stared but then the woman shook herself and glanced around.
"Wow," Mel said, brow furrowing as she looked at the bike in front of them. "That's quite a machine."
"Yeah, she's my pride and joy," Sam replied, warmth spreading through her as she looked at her beloved ride. "It's a 1986 Honda Rebel 450. Classic and a real workhorse."
Mel stepped closer, running her fingers along the bike's curvy silhouette and vibrant red tank. The chrome accents glinted under the soft light, catching the eye like a beacon. "It's gorgeous," she said, her voice laced with genuine admiration. "You ride a lot?"
"Whenever I can." A smile tugged at Sam's lips as she watched Mel take in every detail, appreciating the contours and lines of the bike. There was something intimate about the way Mel lingered over it, tracing the polished chrome on the handlebars and the sleek fenders with her gaze. "Want to take it for a spin sometime?"
Mel raised her brow, her eyes glinting with playful curiosity. "Maybe. But first, you still owe me a call."
In the pocket of her leather jacket, Sam grasped the piece of paper Mel had slipped her earlier that morning. Her fingertips brushed over the dips where the pen had indented the paper with Mel's number. "I think I can manage that."
Mel straightened, turning to face Sam again, the tension between them rising once more. The cool night air did little to dull the heat building between them, and before Sam could say anything else, Mel gently took her by the waist, pulling her close again.
Their goodnight kiss was slow, steady—nothing rushed, nothing urgent, just a quiet confirmation of the connection they'd shared all night. Sam's heart thudded in her chest, and she leaned into it, savoring the way Mel's lips felt against hers. There was a warmth and tenderness in the way they kissed now, the hurried passion of earlier replaced by something softer, more deliberate.
When they finally pulled apart, Mel's hands lingered on Sam's waist for a moment longer before she stepped back, smiling at her like she was seeing her for the first time all over again.
"Call me, okay?" Mel said softly, her voice carrying a note of quiet sincerity. "I'd really love to see you again."
Sam nodded, the grin on her face growing as she bit her lip, still feeling the aftershocks of the kiss. "You can count on it."
Mel laughed, reaching out one last time to give Sam's hand a light squeeze. "Good. And good luck with… everything," she added with a knowing smirk. "I'm rooting for you."
With that, Mel took a step back, her eyes lingering on Sam for a moment longer before she finally moved toward her pickup, which was parked a few spaces away. Sam watched her, feeling light and almost dizzy from everything that had happened tonight.
Slipping her helmet on, she swung a leg over her bike and kicked it into gear. As she revved the engine, she glanced toward Mel one last time. The bartender had walked to her pickup truck and Sam watched as Mel opened the door and slipped inside, her dark hair catching the fading light just right, adding a sense of warmth to the cool evening. Sam waited, feeling a rush of anticipation as she spotted Mel glance back one last time before shutting the door.
Once Mel was inside, Sam revved the engine again, the sound rumbling like a low growl that filled the parking lot, a pulse of energy that made her heart race. The headlights flickered on, cutting through the dimness as she released the clutch and eased the bike into motion. Mel pulled out of the parking lot first, and Sam followed suit, keeping a respectful distance as they both headed in the same direction for a while.
The road ahead opened up, the world around them a blur of evening colors and fading sunlight. Curves appeared in the road like graceful arcs, and she slowed down, leaning slightly into each turn, the tires gripping the asphalt with precision. Mel's truck occasionally pulled ahead, but Sam maintained her steady pace, never cutting across lanes, always respecting the flow of the road.
As they approached a fork, Mel signaled and veered off, her truck gliding into the other lane. Sam raised her hand in farewell, a small wave that felt both bittersweet and hopeful. Mel met her gaze one last time, a smile that lingered before she disappeared down another road. With that, Sam refocused her attention on the asphalt beneath her wheels, the evening air cooling around her as she continued her ride home, a sense of contentment settling within her. The road ahead was her only concern, the bike responding smoothly beneath her, the world of stars above beginning to twinkle in the twilight sky. The night had gone in a direction she never could've expected, and as she drove away from the bar, still feeling the warmth of Mel's lips on hers, she knew one thing for certain: this was only the beginning.
And she couldn't wait to see what came next.
The night was calm as Sam cruised down the winding road, her motorcycle humming smoothly beneath her, each curve of the road rolling out beneath her tires like a familiar rhythm. The wind brushed over her helmet and leather clothing with reassuring firmness, heightening the quiet thrill of her late-night ride. She thought of the evening she'd just left behind—of Mel's smile, their easy conversation, and that perfect, stolen kiss that still lingered on her lips.
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed headlights barreling toward the road from a cross street. A dark sedan surged forward without warning, tires squealing as it shot through the stop sign, speeding straight into her lane. Sam had barely a second to react; her stomach dropped as her hands tightened on the handlebars, but the car was too close, too fast.
The driver slammed on the brakes too late. Tires shrieked against the asphalt, rubber peeling away as thick, black skid marks etched into the road, but there was no chance of stopping. Sam's heart pounded, a flash of panic shooting through her as she instinctively veered, but the sudden swerve sent her bike out of control. The rear tire slipped, and she felt the machine jerk beneath her as it lost traction.
In that split second, everything unraveled.
The rear wheel skidded. The world spun.
The asphalt rushed up to meet her. Sam's body was thrown from the bike, and in that split second, she felt weightless—airborne. The hard impact came fast, brutal. Pain exploded through her body as she collided with the ground, her helmet saving her head but doing little for the rest of her. Her body slammed against the unforgiving pavement, limbs jolted and twisted as she tumbled along the road. Her gear scraped and tore against the asphalt, the ground grating against her as her momentum carried off the road, crashing into a rock. The ominous crack of bone echoed through her entire being long before the pain rushed over her
She gasped for breath, each inhale sharp and ragged, but the pain was overwhelming—radiating from what felt like every part of her body. Her right leg throbbed with a searing agony, and her chest felt like it had been crushed, the pressure making it hard to breathe. Her hands, scraped raw, were numb now, but she could still feel the intense, pulsing ache in her ribs.
She tried to move, but the pain that shot through her when she did made her gasp, the world spinning again as her vision blurred. Her helmet had cracked on impact, the visor bent at an odd angle, half blocking her view. The harsh taste of blood filled her mouth, and she could barely register where she was, the disorienting crash leaving her senses muddled. Hot asphalt and metal stung in her nose, the acrid smell of burnt rubber and the leather of her geared, rubbed against the street where she'd tumbled.
Dazed, Sam tried to turn her head, her vision clouded and blurry. She made out her bike lying in pieces along the road, metal shards scattered like fragments of a broken promise. A groan escaped her, sharp, blinding pain shoting through her leg and side. Breathing alone took every ounce of her strength, the pain flaring with each shallow inhale.
Through the pain, she saw the sedan—its taillights flashing like distant red eyes, a mere blur against the night as it pulled out of the skid and sped off, leaving her there in the darkness. They hadn't stopped. They hadn't even paused to see if she was alive. Sam could barely comprehend it.
The realization hit her, a cold wave of anger mixing with the relentless pain. She lay there, helpless, trying to gather her bearings, each breath a raw ache in her chest. The stars above blurred as her eyes grew heavy, darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision.
A wave of nausea hit her, but she forced herself to stay conscious, her thoughts sluggish and disjointed. She lay there, helpless, her body twisted awkwardly on the side of the road, her breathing shallow and labored. The pain in her leg was unbearable, sharp and burning, while her chest ached with every small breath she managed to take. The stars above her blurred, fading in and out of focus. The night stretched endlessly above her, littered with stars that seemed to blink with a distant indifference. One star caught her eye. No brighter or more brilliant than the others, casting a pale, faint light—yet a familiar one. She recognized it instantly as the star of the next planet she and her team were set to deploy to, barely a week from now. P9X-56G. There had been some sort of Inca-pyramids on the visuals the MALP had sent. Daniel would loved it. She hoped he still got to see it.
In some strange, quiet way, she had always assumed that if death ever came for her, it would be out there, among her comrades, under that alien sky. But not here. Not like this, alone on a deserted road, abandoned like she was nothing.
A sharp ache tightened in her chest, more bitter than the pain that was quickly turning into an all-consuming numbness. She had spent her life prepared to face death alongside people she trusted, facing the impossible. But here, in this cruel twist, she was just another casualty. One more body on the side of a road, left in the dust by someone who hadn't even cared enough to stop. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, the warmth of it so stark against the growing cold that swallowed her body.
Her vision blurred as she watched the stars, their distant light seeming to grow dimmer as darkness crept in from the edges of her sight. She clung to that one point of light—their next destination, the mission she was meant to be on—as the last shreds of consciousness ebbed away. She had never feared death, but this… this kind of loneliness she had never prepared for.
As the cold seeped deeper into her bones, a different warmth sparked in her thoughts—a brief, vivid memory of Mel. The woman she'd met just hours ago at the bar, who'd laughed with her like no one else had in so long. Mel's easy smile, the softness in her eyes, the way she'd made Sam feel seen, if only for a little while. A pang of regret gnawed at her as she lay there, realizing she'd never get the chance to call her, never hear her laugh again or see that shy smile when Sam teased her. She had wanted to know Mel more, to see where that spark might lead. But now, all those possibilities felt as unreachable as the stars above her—just another chance slipping away into the night, leaving her with nothing but fading memories and the silence pressing in.
That thought swirled in her mind, but she didn't have the strength to do anything about it. She couldn't even lift her arm to try and reach for her pager. All she could do was lie there, her body refusing to respond, her mind clouded with agony.
A/N: So, what do you think of Mel?