Page 32 of The Wrong Brother

Then she turns her gaze toward me, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. “I’d love to ride one now,” she says, her voice quieter, like she’s testing the thought out loud. “But you probably wouldn’t be interested in something so… casual.”

Pointless. I don’t know if she’s saying that because she believes it or because she’s bracing for my rejection. My instinct is to brush it off…keep things structured, predictable. But something about the way she says it makes me pause.

For a moment, I don’t respond, studying her instead. Her expression is guarded, but there’s an undercurrent of longing there, like she’s daring herself to ask for something just for the joy of it. And damn it, for some reason, I want to give it to her.

“You know what?” I say, my voice calm. “Let’s do it.”

Her eyes widen, surprise flickering across her face. “You’re serious?”

I shrug, keeping my tone even. “Why not? There’s a rental station down the path.”

She looks at me like she doesn’t quite believe it, like she’s waiting for the catch. “You don’t seem like the bike-riding type, Zack.”

“I’m not but for once, why not,” I reply, though I can hear the faint edge of self-amusement in my voice. Truthfully, I’m not sure what’s come over me. It’s been years…decades, even…since I’ve done anything as casual as riding a bike.

She glances toward the rental station, her uncertainty softening into something closer to excitement. “You’re really going to do this?”

“Sure,” I say, already walking toward the station.

She hurries to keep up, her sneakers scuffing lightly against the cobblestones.

At the station, she busies herself examining the bikes, running her fingers over the handlebars and testing the brakes. She’s distracted, her brows furrowed as she tries to figure outhow the rental process works. I watch her for a moment, noting the way her dress moves as she leans forward, the sheen of her makeup catching the dim light.

“You’re stalling,” I say, stepping up beside her.

“I’m figuring it out,” she replies, her tone defensive but not sharp.

“Let me help,” I offer, entering my details into the kiosk. She steps back, watching me as I select two bikes.

When the locks release, she pulls her bike free, testing it cautiously.

“You really don’t seem like the type for this,” she says again, her tone lighter now, almost teasing.

“I’m not,” I admit, lifting my own bike and adjusting the seat. “But tonight’s not about me.”

Her expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her face. She doesn’t respond, but the faint curve of her lips tells me enough.

We set off down the path, the crunch of gravel under the tires and the gentle hum of the wheels filling the quiet space between us. The Villa Borghese Gardens stretch out in every direction, the manicured lawns and ancient sculptures glowing faintly under the streetlights. The scent of blooming flowers lingers in the air, mingling with the faint sound of distant laughter and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

She rides ahead of me, her movements cautious at first, but she quickly grows more confident, the bike weaving lightly as she experiments. Every so often, she glances back at me, her smile growing wider with each turn.

I slow my pace deliberately, watching her from a distance. There’s a joy in her movements, something effortless and pure, and for once, I let myself just enjoy the moment. It’s not something I’ve done in years…maybe ever. But tonight, it feels… right.

As we near a clearing, I pull out my phone to check the time and map our location.

“Twenty bucks says I’ll get there first.”

I shake my head, smirking. “Make it a hundred.”

Her eyes widen briefly before she nods, determination flashing in her gaze. “You’re on.”

And with that, she takes off, her laughter trailing behind her as she gains speed. I linger for a moment, watching her figure disappear down the path, her hair catching the wind. The world feels lighter, freer, in her presence, and for once, I don’t mind letting her take the lead.

With a soft chuckle, I start after her, the cool night air rushing past as I pedal, the sound of her laughter echoing in my ears. The city unfolds around us, ancient and alive, and for the first time in years, I let myself simply be.

The restaurant isn’t far now…just a short ride through the park. An idea sparks, something unexpected but fitting for the lightness of the moment. “It’s not far from here,” I say, holding up my phone. “How about we make this interesting?”

She arches a brow, intrigued. “Interesting how?”

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