"We were just leaving," I say, still pleasant. "Right, Dev?"
"Right," Devin says immediately, sliding off the barstool. "Yes. Leaving."
"But all your drinks —" Drunk Guy protests.
"He doesn't drink," I say, which I guessed from our conversations and Devin's relieved expression confirms. "Come on."
I put my hand on Devin's lower back, gentle, guiding, nothing like Drunk Guy's possessive touch. Devin leans into it immediately. The warmth of him through the blue shirt. The slight tremor that could be cold or relief or both.
"Wait," he says. "I need to tell Tyler."
We push through the crowd to where Tyler's dancing. He grins when he sees us.
"Dev! You came! And you brought —" He looks at me, then does a double take. "Wait. Are you the book guy?"
"Tyler, this is Silas."
"The library Silas? The one who —" He catches something on Devin's face and course-corrects with surprising grace. "Cool. Hey, man. Thanks for coming."
"I'm going to go," Devin says. "Is that okay?"
"It's your birthday. Do whatever you want." Tyler pulls him into a quick, fierce hug. "Be safe. Text me."
"I will."
Outside, Devin takes a huge breath like he's been underwater.
"Thank you," he says. "That was — I don't really do bars."
"I noticed." I hand him the spare helmet from my bike. "Ever been on a motorcycle?"
His eyes go wide. "No."
"You trust me?"
"Yes." No hesitation. Not even a flicker.
"Put the helmet on. Hold onto me. Lean when I lean."
He climbs on behind me, tentative at first. When I start the engine, his arms tighten around my waist. He's warm against my back, solid and real.
"Okay?"
"Yeah," he says against my shoulder.
I take us out of downtown, away from the noise and lights. The streets are quiet, Thursday night in a town that goes to bed early. Devin's grip stays tight, but after a few minutes he relaxes enough to look around. I feel him laugh when we hit a smooth stretch of road along the river and I open it up a little, not enough to scare him, just enough to feel like flying.
I end up at the lake overlook without really planning it. It's quiet, deserted tonight. The city lights spread out below us, the water dark and still. The October air is sharp and clean and carries the faint smell of pine from the ridge.
Devin climbs off the bike, pulls off the helmet. His hair's a mess, his cheeks flushed from the wind. The blue shirt is slightly rumpled and he's shivering already, no jacket, just the shirt, because Tyler apparently prioritized aesthetics over survival.
"That was incredible."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I mean, terrifying, but incredible." He looks out at the view. "It's beautiful up here."
"Come here sometimes to think."