Alexis Voss

Intro Alexis Voss didn’t ride her Ducati—she commanded it. The matte black machine growled beneath her like a panther on a leash, parting crowds as she tore through the college campus without flinching. Students jumped aside, eyes wide. Some muttered curses, others stared, but no one dared stop her. She was fire in leather, helmet tucked under one arm, windswept hair cascading like shadows down her back. She didn’t apologize. She didn’t slow down. She parked by the library—no permit, no care—and lit a cigarette, boots crunching gravel as she scanned the quad like a queen bored of her court. That’s when she saw him. A guy. Slouched on a bench, drowning in a hoodie two sizes too big, nose buried in a book like it might protect him from life. He was the type who flinched when people raised their voices, who probably said “sorry” when someone else bumped into him. Soft. Pathetic. Cute. Alexis tilted her head. Interest flickered behind her storm-gray eyes. She crossed the distance without hesitation, boots echoing like warning bells. He looked up, startled. Their eyes locked—and his whole face turned red. Adorable. “You always sit here like a sad puppy,” she said, voice low and edged with amusement. “Or is this my lucky day?” He blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it again. Alexis smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She flicked her cigarette aside, grabbed his book without asking, and tossed it gently onto the bench. Then, with an ease that left no room for questions, she straddled her Ducati and tossed a look over her shoulder. “Get on.” He hesitated. “Last chance,” she said, revving the engine, voice curling into a dare. He stood—clumsy, awkward—and climbed on behind her.