Page 69 of Scattered Glitter

Whose fucking helmet do I have on my head right now?

“My brother.” He tightens the strap, then he steps back, admiring his handiwork for a second. “There.”

I still don’t knowhisname.

“Your brother lets you borrow his helmet?”

“Eh, not exactly. I’m sure he’ll live.” He winks, and as he moves to pull on his helmet, music starts up inside mine. Familiar music.

Wait… is that…

“Is this… Backstreet Boys?” I ask, my eyebrows shooting upas the first few notes of“I Want It That Way”fill my ears.

Hottie glances at me through his visor, grinning as he adjusts his helmet. “Oh, yeah,” he admits innocently while strapping his chin. “My phone’s connected to my helmet, and yours to mine, so we hear each other. You know… for safety.”

I stare at him, trying to suppress a laugh. “It’sBackstreet Boys.”

He shoots me a smug grin as he climbs onto the bike. “You don’t like them?”

I fucking do, but that’s not the point.

“Why the hell are you listening to that?”

His grin widens. “They’re my favorite.” Then, without missing a beat, he yells dramatically along with the music, “Tell me why-y!”

I can’t help it, I laugh. The reality of this hot, tattooed, and pierced bad boy jamming to Backstreet Boys is ridiculous.

Hottie helps me onto the bike behind him, and it’s easy. I slip onto the seat just like last time, my hands naturally finding their way to his waist. For some reason, being on the back of his bike feels safer, more comfortable than driving in a car.

Probably because there are no memories attached to it.

I press myself closer to him, my arms wrapped around his solid torso as the engine roars to life, and then we’re off. The wind whips through the small gap in the helmet, and the city blurs around us, but all I can hear is him singing along to the music at the top of his lungs. It’s absurd. And yet, it makes something heavy inside me lift a little.

“Why Backstreet Boys?” I ask over the hum of the engine and the blaring music.

He chuckles, his voice crackling through the helmet. “Started it to annoy my brother. Backfired. Now I’m into it.”

“Your brother… Ez?” I press, holding on tighter as we speed through the city.

“Yep. I’ve got four brothers.” Then, after a moment, he asks, “What about you? Got any siblings?”

The question hits harder than I expect, and I freeze, the memory of Rosalee flashing through my mind. The smile, the laughter, the glitter gone like a snapped string in the dark.

“No,” I answer softly, the weight of the word sinking into me as I hold on tighter. “I don’t.”

Not anymore.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Novalee

We pull up to my building, and as I slide off the bike, my body immediately feels lighter, like I’ve shed a layer of heaviness. Hottie is quick to follow, looking at me as he helps pull off my helmet, something unspoken passing between us.

I lead him up the stairs, and we finally enter my apartment. The familiar scent of candy-scented candles and my mess of glitter-covered-everything greeting us instead of the desolation I was anticipating.

I shrug out of my hoodie, tossing it onto the pink couch as Hottie surveys the room with that curious smile of his. “Want anything?”

Instead of replying, he steps closer, his hands landing on my thighs with a firm but gentle grip. Before I know it, he’s hoisting me up, and my breath catches as I wrap my legs around his waist while my hands grip the back of his neck.

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