𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙧!𝙣𝙞𝙠𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙞 + 𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙪𝙥
notes ✥ i actually was planning to make it biker!nikolai
contents ✥ no warning lol
Your class ends a little later today. You have no other schedule for the rest of the day, which is fortunate since you can get back home. Except, you have to commute your way by yourself.
Taxi or train—the choices have been lingering in your mind as you walk through the college compound. Taxi is certainly the easier option but it is pretty expensive, especially at this hour. You do not doubt that the train will be quite crowded either.
As you walk, you notice that some male students are gathering around something right in front of the gate. You even see some of your friends taking pictures of something. Curious, you approach them, standing behind just a few feet to avoid the crowd.
Just a car. They are surrounding a dark red sports car. It is shiny and sleek. The way the car looks is also unique than any other normal-looking car around. The boys are just excited seeing such a car and they are taking pictures with the car as if they own it.
You wonder if the owner is around.
Someone pokes your shoulder, surprising you. You turn around, eyes wide as you see the man you met last week at the street-racing party. You remember him—how could you not? He dragged you to be in the car while he was racing and although he won, the speed and the turns were making you so dizzy and disoriented that you left him as soon as you got out of the car to find the toilet.
“Nikolai!” You chime his name. Nikolai grins at you sweetly. His toothy grin sparks his cuteness. He is wearing a black leather jacket over a dark red button-up shirt and black jeans. He has a silver chain around his neck. His hair is braided long, resting on his shoulder.
“Hello, pretty!” He returns your enthusiasm. “Goodness, it was hard to find you, you know? You owe me something, don’t you remember?” He says as he whips out his phone. Your face heats slightly.
“You still… want my number?” He nods eagerly at your question.
“I won the race, no? And you disappeared as soon as we parked! I promise you, pretty, I was trying to go to you but my friends were crowding me too much that I lost you.” He explains. Nikolai then takes your hand and places his phone on it. “Please, please? Can I have your number?” He pleas with a cute pout, contrasting the rough look on him.
“U-Uh… y-yeah, yeah..!” You are quite flustered being flirted on so boldly like this. But you do enjoy Nikolai’s presence and the memory of being panicked in his car while he was racing is still fresh in your mind. You take the phone, giving him your number.
“How do you even find me?” You ask.
“Huh? Oh! I know your friend is kinda a regular visitor and I ask around for her to know where you study or work at… And… here I am!” He smiles, patting his own chest proudly.
“Why don't you just ask for my number from her?” You give back his phone, which he takes and types something for your name contact.
“Yeah, I wanna ask it from you directly. It feels more rewarding that way.” Nikolai says before his eyes scan you up and down. “You’re done with class? Going home, pretty?” You nod. His lips curl into a tiny smirk.
You blink at him a couple of times before your irises divert to the red car that is still surrounded by students. You pucker your lips towards it. “That’s your car? I remember you have a different one.”
Nikolai snickers. “I don’t only have one, pretty. This one is for special occasions.” He takes out a key from his pocket, presses it and the car’s lights turn on, surprising the people around it. Seeming to be aware that the owner is around, the students scramble away, laughing and giggling at the thought of being caught on.
“So? You comin’ with me?”
“A date.” Nikolai takes your hand. “Yeah?”
You are a bit flustered by his boldness, staring at his hand that is engulfing yours. But your heart is tugged towards him—you step closer and nod. “I don’t have any schedule anyway.”
Nikolai grins and leads you to his car, which he gentlemanly opens the door for you. You can feel the curious looks from passersby as you sit comfortably in the car. It smells very nice—fragrant. The backseat is cleaner than the one you were in during that race. You wonder if he makes the effort to be presentable.
He gets in on the driver’s side. As he turns on the engine, you grab his arm. “Yes, pretty?” He asks.
“Don’t drive too fast like you’re racing.”
Nikolai laughs, shaking his head. “Promise not to, honey. But if you’re dizzy, just hold me!”
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