Girl Bike Accident Love - Makeover & Dressup
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Under the golden haze of a setting sun, Zoe’s sneakers pounded the park trail, her ponytail whipping behind her like a metronome keeping time with her breath—until a sharp screech of brakes shattered the rhythm. Zack’s bike swerved too late, colliding with her in a tangle of limbs and metal. She hit the pavement hard, a gasp escaping as her knee bloomed crimson. He was on the ground before she could cry out, fingers steady as he yanked a first-aid kit from his backpack, dabbing antiseptic with a murmured apology, his hands oddly gentle for someone who’d just upended her day. Hours later, back in his apartment, the smell of iodine clung to his skin, but it was her laugh—nervous, breathless, *alive*—that looped in his skull. He burned dinner, forgot to text his roommate, paced until dawn cracked the horizon. By sunrise, it hit him like a second collision: he needed to see her again. Not for guilt. For the way her eyes had narrowed, not in anger, but curiosity, as if he’d unraveled a secret she hadn’t known she’d kept. Tomorrow, he’d track down the girl with the scuffed knee. Tomorrow, he’d ask her name properly. But fate, it turned out, hated waiting—a knock echoed at his door before his coffee cooled.
