Chapter Eight: Handle With Caution (And Ego Bruising)
Ava’s POV
There are few things in life that bring me joy after a long day of lectures—
1. Speeding down the university road like it’s a racetrack.
2. Watching Kalix Hayes deal with inconvenience.
Today, the universe gave me both.
I was halfway out of the parking lot, my motorcycle engine purring like a smug cat, helmet on, mood semi-decent, when I saw it.
Aston Martin. Hood up. Kalix Hayes. Arms crossed. And a very visible vein in his jawline screaming rich boy frustration.
I slowed down. Purely for observational purposes.
He turned the moment he heard my engine.
Our eyes met.
I revved once. “Car not purring today, Mr. Hayes?”
He exhaled slowly, like asking for help from me might physically pain him. “It’s not starting.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oof. You’d think those ten million horsepower engines could handle a Wednesday afternoon.”
He stared. “I already called the mechanic. It’ll take an hour. I just need a ride.”
I leaned on one handlebar, dramatic. “Say please.”
“Ava.”
“Say it.”
He looked like he was biting a lemon. “Please.”
I grinned and kicked down the second helmet from the back hook. “Hop on. Try not to die.”
---
The moment he sat behind me, stiff as a statue, I felt his discomfort radiating like solar flares.
“You can hold the back handle,” I offered sweetly.
“I’m fine,” he said, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else.
I took a sharp turn.
He instantly grabbed the handle behind me like his life depended on it.
I laughed. “Aww. Scared of a little speed?”
“This thing feels like it’s built with leftover blender parts.”
I accelerated.
He swore. Loudly.
“Relax,” I said over my shoulder. “We’re just hitting 80.”
“You’re going 80 in a university zone!”
“And yet, here we are—alive.”
---
By the time we reached the main road, the sun was low, traffic light, and my smirk very much intact.
Kalix hadn’t said a word since the second speed bump nearly launched him off.
He finally muttered, “This is the most humbling moment of my academic life.”
I snorted. “Good. Builds character.”
When we pulled into our apartment block, he climbed off like he’d just escaped war.
“Thanks,” he grumbled, handing the helmet back.
“Anytime,” I said, swinging off casually. “Maybe next time I’ll let you drive.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Scared of blender parts?”
He looked at me. Then cracked—just a little. A smile. Brief. Dangerous.
“Terrified,” he said. “Especially when they drive like chaos on two wheels.”
I walked away, helmet in hand, still grinning.
Kalix Hayes: math genius, part-time singer, full-time menace.
Now also: my motorcycle’s emergency passenger.
God, I was framing this memory.
YOU ARE READING
The Arrangement Algorithm
RomanceThey were enemies on paper. Fiancés by arrangement. And roommates by the cruelest twist of fate. Ava Brown is a Physics major with a sharp tongue, boxing gloves, and a weakness for men with muscles she refuses to admit. Kalix Hayes is a year older...
