𝑆𝑇𝑅𝐴𝑊𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐶𝐼𝐺𝐴𝑅𝐸𝑇𝑇𝐸𝑆 🍓 ₊˚࿐
- ✧ A year had passed since Johnny Davis had given A/N a ride home on that quiet evening. Seasons came and went, and the little town stayed much the same — dusty streets, old diners, and whispers of the past mingling with the hum of motorcycle engines. But for Johnny, something felt different. The memory of the girl with the basket of strawberries and that playful smile had lingered in the back of his mind, like a song he couldn’t shake off.
One summer night, the Bike Riders were back at their usual spot, gathered around their bikes outside the same old diner. The neon sign flickered overhead, casting a soft, buzzing glow onto the street below. Johnny leaned against his bike, a cigarette perched between his lips, eyes scanning the familiar surroundings.
That’s when he saw her again.
A/N was walking along the sidewalk, her steps slower, more measured than before. Her hair was longer now, falling in waves around her shoulders, and she wore a simple sundress that moved gently in the warm evening breeze. She looked older, but still young — like time had brushed past her without really settling in. There was a new confidence in her stride, a quiet self-assurance that hadn’t been there before.
Johnny’s heart skipped a beat, his cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. She looked up and saw him. For a moment, their eyes met, and something sparked between them, a recognition, a memory.
She smiled, a slow, deliberate smile, and walked over to him. “Johnny Davis,” she said, her voice warmer but still holding that soft edge. “Still here, I see.”
Johnny chuckled, taking the cigarette from his lips. “I could say the same about you, A/N. You’ve grown up a bit.”
She laughed, a sound that was somehow both familiar and new. “Yeah, I guess a lot can change in a year.”
Johnny nodded, his gaze lingering on her face. “What brings you back here?”
Emily shrugged. “I come into town sometimes. It’s where the stories are, where things happen, you know?”
He nodded, understanding the unspoken words. There was a restlessness in her, a desire for something more than the worn-down house and the quiet life at the edge of town. “You want another ride?” he asked, half-joking, half-serious.
She tilted her head, considering him for a moment. “Maybe,” she replied. “But this time, I have somewhere else in mind.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Where’s that?”
She leaned in, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and something deeper. “There’s an old road up by the cliffs,” she said. “They say it’s dangerous, but the view is beautiful. I’ve always wanted to see it.”
Johnny hesitated. The road she was talking about was notorious, narrow and winding, a place where thrill-seekers went to test their luck. But there was something in her voice, a challenge, a dare that he couldn’t resist.
“Alright,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Let’s go see it.”
A/N climbed onto the back of his bike, her hands finding their place around his waist, just like before. Johnny felt the familiar thrill of the ride course through his veins as he kicked the engine into gear and took off down the street.
They rode out of town, past the fields and the quiet houses, toward the cliffs where the road twisted and turned, hugging the edge of the steep drop-off. The wind was warm against their faces, and for a moment, Johnny felt like they were the only two people in the world, racing against the setting sun.
When they reached the cliffs, he slowed down, bringing the bike to a stop at a small overlook. The view was breathtaking — the town spread out below them, bathed in the golden light of dusk, the river winding its way through the valley like a silver thread.
A/N slid off the bike and walked to the edge, her eyes wide with wonder. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Johnny stood beside her, his hands in his pockets, watching her take it all in. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It is.”
She turned to him, her face glowing in the fading light. “Thanks for bringing me here,” she said. “I knew I could count on you.”
Johnny felt a strange warmth spread through him at her words. “Anytime,” he replied, a hint of a smile on his lips.
After a few quiet moments, A/N turned to him, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. “Hey, why don’t you come to my house? I want to show you something.”
Johnny hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Sure. Lead the way.”
They rode back to her place, the ride slower this time, the twilight settling into a deep, warm blue. When they reached her house, A/N jumped off the bike, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. She led him around the side of the house, down a small path that wound through a patch of tall grass.
“I’ve been growing something,” she said, her voice soft, almost secretive.
They reached a small clearing, and Johnny stopped in his tracks. There, behind the house, was a garden — a small, neat patch filled with rows upon rows of strawberry plants, their red fruits glowing like jewels in the dim light.
“I planted them myself,” she said proudly. “Every one of them.”
Johnny looked at her, surprised. “Why strawberries?”
A/N smiled. “Because they’re sweet,” she replied simply. “And they remind me of being a kid.”
She walked over to one of the plants and picked a strawberry, holding it up to his lips. “Here, try one.”
Johnny took a bite, the sweetness of the strawberry flooding his mouth. For a moment, he forgot about the cigarette in his pocket, the bike waiting by the curb. All he could think about was the taste of the fruit and the girl in front of him.
She laughed softly, and Johnny felt something stir inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Emily picked another strawberry, this time gently feeding it to him with her fingers. He could feel her warmth, the softness of her touch, the lingering scent of the strawberries on her skin.
He leaned against the garden fence, watching her move among the plants, her face glowing with joy and mischief. She turned back to him, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “You’re different,” she said quietly.
Johnny’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something more serious, more thoughtful. “Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe it’s just you who makes me feel that way.”
A/N blushed and looked away, but there was a smile on her lips. “Maybe,” she echoed softly.
They stayed there for a while, sitting among the strawberry plants, sharing stories and fruit, the night air filled with the scent of sweetness and smoke. For that brief moment, time seemed to stand still, and the line between the innocent and the savage blurred in the moonlight.
When Johnny finally left, he couldn’t stop thinking about her — the girl with the strawberry garden and the smile that made him feel like a different person. As he rode away, the taste of strawberries still lingered on his lips, mingling with the scent of his cigarette smoke.
And he knew he’d be back.
tags : @xxanaduwrites / @tickettride / @pacifymebby / @iridescentprose / @mayfieldss / @zablife
