“I’m pretty sure he was meant to judge if you were safe and potentially scare you off,” I say, placing the word ‘safe’ in an air quote. “He did a pretty bad job of it.” Devon chuckles, passing me a backpack and placing a helmet on my head. “He thinks you’re cool, so that’s probably enough for him. Where are we going anyway?” I drum my fingers on Devon’s shoulders as I sit behind him on the bike. “I’m glad you’re more eager in person than texting.” His shoulders hunch forward, and he pretends to silently sob. “What do you mean?! I was so excited to see your message,” I argue, swatting his back.
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