Motorcycles. Were. Terrifying.

Even though Farron drove as slowly as she promised, a fact that was apparent when a nighttime cyclist passed them with a bewildered stare, Cora was still sure she was going to die. She worried she would lean too far to the side and gravity would drag her down to the asphalt. She pictured a neighboring car trying to change lanes and running over them instead. She imagined the motorcycle hitting a pothole and bucking Cora from the seat like an aggravated bull.

Cora couldn't even feel embarrassed over how tightly she had wrapped her arms around Farron's waist, not when her primary concern was avoiding a gruesome, painful death. Granted, she managed to temporarily forget about her earlier shortcomings, but they hadn't been "swept away by exhilaration," or whatever nonsense she had expected. Instead, they were mercilessly smothered by fear.

By the time they parked in front of Cora's rundown building, Cora wasn't sure she could get her tense muscles to carry her up the stairs to her apartment. She even struggled to unlatch her arms from Farron's body, and she only managed to pry herself off when the reverberations of Farron's low chuckles shook her own chest.

"Sure you don't need some help with that?" Farron asked.

Cora grimaced, hoping to mask her embarrassment with annoyance. "Thanks, but I'll take a rain check."

"Oh? Are you implying there'll be a next time?"

Cora, who was already struggling to maneuver her stiff, bowed legs over the seat, almost fell over at the suggestion. "Definitely not."

Farron hummed. "Well, let me know if you change your mind. I'm here to help."

The offer made Cora more determined to see her mission through on her own. Only when both of her feet were finally on stable ground, and there wasn't a mobile death trap between her legs, did Cora allow herself to relax.

But her mind had different ideas as it reminded her of the situation: they were outside of her apartment in the middle of the night, and Farron was watching her almost expectantly. At least, that's what Cora assumed. It was tough to tell when most of Farron's face was hidden within her helmet, and only her eyes were exposed thanks to her raised visor.

Was Cora supposed to invite her inside? That would be the courteous thing to do after Farron went out of her way to help her, but would the gesture be appropriate or creepy? On the off chance Farron accepted, how long would she stay for? What could she do in Cora's tiny, barely furnished home? What would Cora have to offer her anyway besides a cup of tap water? Well, maybe there was one thing Cora could give her...

"Did you need to hang onto that helmet to get to your place?" Farron asked, tapping her own black helmet. "Not that I mind. You seem like you need it anyway."

Oh no. Cora was still wearing Farron's spare helmet, wasn't she?

Even though the headgear was perfect to hide Cora's burning cheeks, she yanked it off her head faster than she had donned it, barely feeling the hair she pulled out in the process. Thankfully, Farron didn't comment on it, but when she tried to take the helmet, Cora inexplicably held on.

Farron raised her brows at Cora; Cora froze. She couldn't turn back now. She didn't want to either. She wanted a change, and like everything else, she had to work hard to earn it.

Besides, she had already embarrassed herself multiple times that day. One more instance was nothing.

"Did you...did you want to come inside?" Cora asked, hoping her voice wasn't trembling as much as her mind was.

When Farron's eyes widened and silence fell between them, Cora wanted to run as fast as she could, nevermind that her stiff legs were barely keeping her upright. Instead, she held her ground, and while she let the spare helmet fall from her limp fingers and into Farron's possession, Cora braced herself for rejection. She would stay strong, no matter what happened. Her expression would remain nonchalant. Her voice would be steady. At no point could she show her true emotions—her weaknesses—when she was vulnerable. Not again—

"Sure," Farron said, the single syllable blending in with Cora's thumping pulse.

In fact, Cora wasn't sure if Farron said anything at all, not when she couldn't see Farron's mouth behind her helmet—not that Cora would ever look there, of course not, why would she? For all she knew, Farron's agreement was Cora's delusion.

"Huh?" Cora said before she could stop herself, then belatedly closed her mouth when she realized it was still hanging open.

"Sure," Farron said, slightly louder. "If you don't mind, of course."

"Of course not," Cora said, then quickly added, "Just to warn you, though, my apartment's kind of a mess. I don't get many visitors. Actually, I don't get any visitors. It's just that I wanted to give you something. It's nothing special, and I guess I can give it to you at work..."

"I'll be happy to take it now," Farron said when Cora trailed off, then gestured at her bike. "Is it... Can I just leave this here? Or actually...I saw the bike parking earlier, so I'll just...yeah. Uh...one sec. Second. Uh...yeah."

A few seconds passed before Cora realized she had to react, but by the time she started nodding like a bobblehead, Farron had already turned her focus ahead before continuing through the parking lot. For a brief moment, Cora was sure Farron was going to drive away, despite her words, and was both relieved and worried when she saw Farron pull alongside another motorcycle instead. Farron took her time patting down her various pockets even after she dismounted—an observation that Cora only vaguely noticed, of course—giving Cora a few precious seconds to think.

Alright, she did the hard part and asked the question... Now what? She hadn't planned that far in advance. She didn't even think she would've made it as far as she did.

But maybe she didn't need to think. Maybe preparing for things was holding her back, and it was just another aspect of herself that she needed to change. Doing everything opposite from her normal choices had gotten her to that moment, hadn't it? Maybe that's what she—

"Ready?" Farron asked, suddenly in front of Cora again.

While Cora didn't jump at the one-word question, it was a near thing. It didn't help that Farron still wore her helmet, and it was nearly impossible to tell exactly how much she was judging Cora based on her eyes alone. All Cora could do was imagine Farron's perception of her, and Cora's assumptions were only jumping to negative conclusions. For all she knew, Farron had no desire to stay there another second, and she had only agreed to be courteous. She probably had other business to attend to, like going the the gym, or the grocery store for more instant noodles, or even a tattoo parlor—

"Oh, right, sorry," Farron mumbled, her voice partially muffled as she began to remove her helmet mid-sentence.

What she was apologizing for, Cora had no idea. In fact, she had no thoughts at all as Farron shook her now-helmetless head a bit, then ran a hand through the short black strands. Her dragon tattoo shifted as she did so.

"I kind of forgot I had it on," Farron said, her sheepish grin now fully visible. "I'm guessing that's what the weird look was for?"

Weird look? What weird look? Did Cora look weird? Or...had Cora been looking at Farron weirdly? Did Farron think Cora was judging her? Was Farron, the tough, unshakeable Fruitastic assistant manager...self-conscious?

Perhaps Cora wasn't the only one who was nervous. With that realization, Cora smiled, and she was surprised by how easily it came to her.

"Don't worry, it's not you," Cora said. The last thing she wanted to do was make Farron feel any negative emotions, especially after how much she had done for Cora that day. "I...just remembered the elevator's broken, and I'm on the fifth floor. Are you fine with the stairs?"

Thankfully, Farron's hesitant smile immediately reverted to her cocky grin. "This is my leg day, remember? But are you fine with the stairs? You're looking a little wobbly."

Cora laughed, more amused than offended. "Is it that obvious? I'm usually fine with these stairs, but I might be a little slow today."

"No problem." Farron winked, and Cora didn't have enough time to brace herself for what was to come. "I'll carry you, if you want."

"Oh. Uh..." Cora hoped the low light hid her warming cheeks as her eyes tried to look anywhere besides Farron, then settled on the stairwell and the flickering bulb above it. "Stairs. Right."

As Cora rushed for her escape, Farron's soft chuckles followed her.

Luckily, no one needed to carry anyone up the narrow, dingy staircase, and the only difficulty Cora faced was opening her slightly misaligned door with its rusting lock. After years of living there, though, Cora knew all the best ways to get it to cooperate—that is, where to hit it.

"Sorry," Cora muttered after the fact, taking longer than she needed to remove her sticking key from the unlocked door. "It's...not the classiest building."

"No need to be sorry," Farron said. "Besides, it seems like you have the magic touch."

Farron's last word lingered in Cora's ears, up until she cleared it with a rough cough and yanked her key free, then led the way inside.

If it had been twenty-four hours ago, Cora would've balked at the thought of inviting anyone, especially Farron, inside her tiny apartment. But things had changed, and earlier events made revealing her "large closet with plumbing" the least of her concerns.

Sure, her kitchen, sitting just inside the front door, was about the size of the register counter at Cool Beans, but at least one of the rusty gas burners was still reliable. The tiny bathroom on the other side of the door was recently deep cleaned, and the cracked pink tile from the seventies sparkled as if it was the nineties again. While her living room-slash-bedroom lacked furniture, it was still relatively tidy. It wasn't like she could properly make her bed when it was a tri-fold mattress on the ground, but everything else didn't look that bad.

Okay, maybe Cora wasn't about to host open houses for her tiny apartment. But one thing had changed for sure: she didn't care if Farron saw. Cora wasn't sure how she felt about that shift in her mentality yet, but that was something she could brood over at a later time.

As she stepped out of her shoes, Cora continued to scan her apartment for anything out of place, mainly looking for stray underwear that she might have left out to air-dry. Her eyes honed in on her bar stool side table, and she scurried over to collect the stack of red-stamped envelopes on top. Alright, maybe there were a few things she still didn't want Farron to see.

"You can come inside, but sorry about the mess," Cora said, stuffing the bills under her mattress. "You'd think that with so little stuff, I'd be able to keep it nicer around here."

Farron raised her eyebrows as she placed her own shoes neatly next to Cora's. "Are you kidding? This is cleaner than the food court. Which I guess isn't saying much, but my point is, your place is great. And perfectly clean."

Cora could feel herself beaming at the small compliment, and she did her best to hide it as she searched for the reason she invited Farron there in the first place. "Thanks. Uh..."

Then, she saw it: a dark brown fabric bag handle peeking out from the other side of her clothes rack.

In retrospect, Cora probably leapt across the tiny room faster than necessary just to grab the small item, and she shouldn't have been surprised when she turned back to Farron and was met with wide-eyed shock.

"Sorry," Cora muttered, lowering her gaze to her fingers fidgeting over the bag handle. "I just...I wanted to return this to you."

Only after Cora thrust the bag towards Farron did she realize that the woman probably had no idea what she was talking about. The reusable Cool Beans bag wasn't what she was returning, after all, and as far as Cora knew, Farron didn't have X-ray vision. But when Cora snapped her head up to explain, Farron was already accepting the offering with mild confusion.

"It's all for you," Cora added as Farron peered into the bag. "It was the least I could do to return the favor."

"Favor?" Farron's narrowed gaze remained inside the bag for a few seconds longer before her eyes widened. "Is that the shirt I gave you?"

Cora paused, not entirely sure what to make of Farron's reaction. "Maybe?" Well, that just sounded pathetic. "Yes?"

Farron turned to her, and while she looked slightly exasperated, one side of her lips was tilted upwards. "I said it was a gift, and I meant it. Besides, you could use some color in your wardrobe, and shades of coffee brown don't count."

As Farron fished the shirt out, Cora frowned. She figured the shirt had been more of a loan, despite Farron's words, and she internally scolded herself for misreading the situation so poorly. Still, she had to force her hands to remain firmly at her sides when Farron held the garment between them.

"Are you rejecting my heartfelt gesture?" Cora asked.

Farron smirked. "Are you trying to re-gift what I gave you?"

That, and some light waving of Farron's hand, was all it took for Cora to accept the shirt with a loud sigh. She guessed she couldn't complain too much. Once she ignored the annoying Fruitastic design, the shirt was surprisingly comfortable.

Still, she couldn't help but feel disappointed that her gesture had been a partial failure. How many times had she been lectured about the etiquette for returning items? How did she manage to still mess it up?

"You have to keep everything else, though," Cora snapped, hoping her tone was threatening enough to make Farron comply.

Judging by Farron's chuckle that followed, she wasn't entirely successful, but at least Farron continued to search through the bag.

"I'm serious," Cora said, then, when Farron's smirk remained, "You can use the bag to hold bread, assuming you ever manage to get to it first."

With that, Farron finally paused her search to look at Cora, eyebrows raised. "Is that a challenge?"

Cora tried to stand taller without looking too obvious. "For you, maybe."

"And the assorted coffee candies in here? I figured I was sweet enough."

"If giving all of your customers murderous looks is you being sweet, then I'd hate to see you angry."

"And this?" Farron pulled out a small tan envelope from the depths of the reusable bag. "Did you give me a Cool Beans gift card so you can see me more often?"

It took a second for Cora to comprehend Farron's words, and another to force out a sharp scoff. "Oh, please. Why would I need to buy a gift card when I see you all the time already?"

For the second time that night, Farron winked, and Cora was far from prepared.

"Sure," Farron said, her voice somehow deeper and huskier than it had been a second ago. "But not up close."

As Cora could only stare in response, her pounding heart filling her blank mind, Farron chuckled as she slipped her shoes back on.

"Thanks, coffee cake," she said as she opened the door with one hand and held up the Cool Beans bag with the other. "I'll be sure to use it wisely."

"Uh-huh," was the only noise Cora could force from her frozen self.

While it could hardly be considered a proper response, it was enough for Farron. With one last grin, she headed out, and as the click of the closing door faded into silence, Cora willed her racing heart to do the same.

It didn't listen.