Girl Bike Accident Love
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Zoe sprinted through the park, sunlight dappling the path as her sneakers pounded the pavement. A sharp screech of brakes cut the air—Zack’s bike swerved too late, clipping her knee. She stumbled, wincing as blood bloomed through torn leggings. He leaped off, apologies tumbling out while he knelt, gingerly cleaning the scrape with a water bottle and a crumpled napkin from his backpack. Their hands brushed; her quiet “thanks” lodged in his chest like a stone. Hours later, back in his apartment, her face flickered behind his eyelids—the way she’d tucked her hair behind her ear, the hesitant smile she’d offered before limping away. By midnight, he’d memorized the curve of her frown, the hitch in her laugh. Sleep evaded him. Every thought spiraled back to the park, to the ache in his ribs that had nothing to do with the crash. When dawn crept in, he knew: he had to find her. But how? The city was a labyrinth, and all he had was a name. Zoe. It echoed, relentless, as he laced his shoes and stepped back into the morning light, pulse racing like it had when their eyes first met.
