Unrequited, V

The drive down 290 went quickly, blending into I-35 without much pause.

The song blared in his helmet, wailing guitars, and the vocals detailing all the troubled him now.

"...Soft lips are open, knuckles are pale..." as Declan shifted, hit the throttle, and the engine whined with anticipation.

Immediately, his phone began to ring. Damn, though Declan, she's gonna stop me.

"Yes?"

"Dec, what are you doing?"

"C'mon...you wanted to go for a ride, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but you're going like 85 right now! Slow down!"

"Sorry...you know what today is right?" And with that, he hung up on here on the song resumed.

"...Feels like you're dying...You're dying...You...Your sex is like fire..."

The marker would soon be within sight.