You were coasting down the hill on Main Street, streaking toward work as fast as you could. You didn’t want to be late again. Your boss was sure to lose their shit.
You were passing a row of parked cars along the curb when just ahead of you a guy stepped out from nowhere.
You only had a split second to react and you squeezed the brakes as hard as you could. “Shit!” It was the only word you could get out as you swerved to avoid running into him and your bike skidded sideways, sending you down to the pavement hard, toppling over your handle bars. Your palms took the brunt of the force and you thanked your past self for putting your helmet on every day despite feeling like a dork in it.
“Oh, shit! Oh my God!” The guy was standing over you as you got your bearings again, looking up at him as he crouched down beside you. “Fuck! This is totally my fault–I should have looked. I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”
You winced as you looked at your palms. They were both torn up and there was gravel imbedded in the skin. “Uhh… mostly. I think,” you said slowly.
“Shit! I’m such an idiot–I’m so sorry. Here,” he reached a hand down to gently grasp your elbow and help you to your feet. Once you were standing, staring at your palms, he grabbed your bike and walked it over to the sidewalk. You finally glanced up at him, following behind, and you caught a glimpse of extremely green eyes as he turned to face you. His brow was heavily furrowed and he had a horrified expression on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. “God, your hands… I’m so sorry. Here–uhh… we can duck in here and get you cleaned up–” he said, gesturing to the nearby coffee shop.
“I’m okay. Really,” you said, picking some of the grit off your hands. “I’m supposed to be getting to work–”
He frowned. “Please let me at least help you get cleaned up and then–I can drop you off. My car is just right across the street. Please? It’s the least my dumbass can do.” His eyes were pleading and apologetic.
“I’ll take you up on the first bit, but really–I’m fine. I just work down a couple blocks. I think my bike and I can make it.”
He at least looked relieved that you were going to allow him to help you a little. “Deal. I’m Dean,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
“Y/N.” You realized then just how good looking he was and you felt your cheeks warm. You quickly took your helmet off and smoothed your hair. Standing there with bloody palms was bad enough, let alone having your helmet cinched under your chin.
In a moment he rushed into the nearby cafe and left you to wonder if this was one of those real life “meet cute” moments you always saw in the movies…