• Alice Beck Emmerson had hoped to sleep in that morning since it was a Saturday. Friday evening she had dressed her extra-baggy nightshirt and shorts, added another blanket to her futon, and even dug her rarely-used memory foam pillow from her closet—all to insure a comfortable night’s sleep. Her efforts paid off for the first eight hours of sleep, and then she was woken by a continuous grating noise from outside. She groaned and rolled over, her back to the window, and tried to ignore the sound so she could retreat once more to her dream world. That illusive world was just beyond her grasp—if only the noise would stop…
    No dice, Alice sighed internally. What the hell is whoever’s outside doing this early?
    Technically, though, it wasn’t early anymore for people who never slept in. Seven o’clock in the morning is when normal people wake up during the weekends, those people who don’t go to parties and get hangovers or have any late-night shows worth staying up for, people who didn’t relish in sleeping in during the rare times it was possible.
    I’m blabbering to myself. I need more help than previously thought. Alice smiled dryly at herself as she rolled out from under the futon’s warm comfort and staggered to her second-story window to peer outside at the perpetrator and maybe give them the finger if they were in sight.
    The cause of her sleep loss was clear as day, idling on the curb right in front of the path that led through the front gates and to the door of her adoptive family’s town house. It was menacing and shiny and sleek and orange. It looked as if it had been taken straight out of Car and Driver. It looked dangerous and fast. It looked—
    It looks like its owner is some poor, lost dope, Alice thought wistfully. Yuki would never allow a biker anywhere near the house—that is to say, if he knows any at all. Kimi knows a few, but Yuki wouldn’t let them park the bike where the neighbors could see…
    Someone was leaving the property with a lazy strut that practically screamed ‘Just try to act like you know me, see what happens!’ Alice blinked in shock: the biker was leaving in one piece from her front door. Perhaps Yuki had not had his morning coffee—there is no way in hell he would let a motorcyclist leave so casually. Especially not when the person was wearing a full leather biking suit, helmet and all.
    As a matter of fact, the person must be lost. He still had his helmet on. He didn’t intend to stay long. Yes, definitely…
    Alice’s disappointed thought trailed off when the biker mounted his bike in one fluid movement, revved the engine and instead of racing off down the street, he turned to look at her in the second floor window.
    Suddenly conscious of her baggy shirt and rats’-nest hair, Alice flushed and took a half-step back from the window. Wait, she chastised herself, There’s no way he’s staring at me. I’m in the second floor for God’s sake! He’s probably looking at the roof—I told Yuki I saw some shingles fall during that last storm—
    But the biker flipped up his helmet’s visor, and sure enough, those dark-chocolate eyes were focused on her face. So the biker was Asian. A friend of Yuki and Kimi’s, or a relative. Alice gulped, and a nervous shiver ran down her spine: the deep brown eyes held no emotion whatsoever as they took in her scruffy appearance. Not even surprise, which is the look Alice had grown used to during these first few weeks after Yuki and Kimi adopted her. No, these eyes were just bottomless and cold.
    The eyes narrowed slightly from below as though the biker was smiling. Then, in the blink of an eye, the biker had flipped the visor down again, leaned forward, twisted his wrists to rev the engine, and sped off down the road until the bike’s roar had faded into the distance.
    Alice remained by the window for a few moments after the bike had gone, her mind swirling with confusion and shock. She shook her head slowly as if to clear her mind. Then her stomach grumbled, startling her out of her thoughts, and she glanced over at the ruffled futon, contemplating whether or not it was worth it to try and sleep another hour or so. Her stomach grumbled again and she made her way to her closet—her designated sleep-in day was a lost cause now. As she began to dress for the day, Alice couldn’t help but think of how similar her stomach sounded to the bike that had disrupted her morning.
    She couldn’t shake the feeling that the biker was not a lost stranger.