D A R K O'S P.O.V

"Mate, stop daydreaming and focus!"

I snapped out of my musings, prying my eyes away from the red dirt beneath me and faced my biker friend, Connor. His bushy brows were furrowed, and his calloused hand was stretched out towards the track.

"We're about to race," he said, his thick Australian accent reverberating in my ears. "You ain't getting out of this one that easily. Don't forget about the bet ya made last week."

"Bet? What bet?" I asked, confused. He groaned, before shaking his head. I have no idea what is happening right now, I've been too focused on Taylor and Bella to remember or think about anything else.

"You're seriously so forgetful mate," he said, "I wonder about you sometimes. You should be more like the other guys, they remember everything, like elephants-"

"Can you just tell me what I fucking forgot?" I said, snapping at him. He looked at me, his face a mix of confusion and shock.

"Jeez mate," Connor said, exasperated. "Who shat in your cornflakes?"

Connor tends to make up phrases as he pleases, and usually, none of them make any sense; but, he's used this one before. I think it translates to 'Who pissed you off?' I don't even know. Connor is as good with phrases as I am good with nicknames.

"Bella did," I muttered to myself, out of Connor's earshot. It has been a few days since the party, and I haven't been able to shake off what happened. I guess I hoped my Sunday racing would help me forget, but it doesn't appear to be working.

I shrugged, realising he was still waiting for an answer. He sighed, before rubbing his bald head with his palm.

"Ya made a bet after the fit ya had las' week about coming second in a race, mate. The bet was, and I quote from you, 'the best idea in the world'," Connor said, using his fingers as quotation marks. "If ya place first, ya get to pick one of the other racers and they have to do whatever ya want," He said, gesturing to my other friends on the track.

"And, if ya didn't place first, whoever did gets to make you do anything they want."

"This sounds stupid," I said, sneering at the group already gathered at the race track. Half of them were either bike junkies or newbies. I groaned.

"Hey, you made it up, not me. You said something about it being 'revolutionary', whatever that means. I'm just reminding you. You know what happens here if bets aren't followed through," he said, nodding his head to the area's entrance. "You aren't allowed to come back."

I shrugged. I wasn't in the right headspace to race, but a bet is a bet. I just have to win, so none of these guys gets to use me for the rest of the day.

Maybe this race was good for me. Maybe, this race will help me forget about Bella and Taylor. Gunning and focusing on winning might just be the cure for my fixed mindset.

"Sure," I said, making Connor smile, "Let's go."

I wheeled my motorcycle to the edge of the makeshift starting line (It was a checkered fabric tied loosely to the base of two posts on either side of the dirt track), put on my carbon black helmet, and slipped my fingers into my leather gloves. To my left, three brutes that I hadn't seen before gruffed at the track ahead. Their bulky builds squished their bikes beneath them - they won't be a problem for me to pass, especially on the track's turns.

I looked to my right, and it was just Connor there. He was a good racer, but he's too small and old to turn corners properly. Adjacent to him, there was enough space for another rider or two to enter, but nobody did. A few newbie racers gathered on the side of the banks, as well as a few girls, to watch.

Looking at the racers, as well as the fans on the sidelines, has blocked off all of my negative thoughts from the party. All I care about right now is winning this race and having as much fun as I can while trying to do so. Racing is my cure.

I looked to Stefan, the temporary referee, who shot me a warm smile. Stefan usually doesn't come with me to the races, but our usual referee broke his leg. Usually, Stefan would just laugh if I told him before, but he's been acting really supportive ever since I broke down on Friday night. He said he was more than willing to help referee - either it was he wanted to see me race or he wanted to make some quick cash. I'm hoping it was more for the former rather than the latter.

He never acts like this in regards to me. It's really refreshing; I like it. He's been getting really involved in stuff I like as of recent. He's even pretending to be a real sports presenter - it's both equally sweet and entertaining.

"Aaaaall right, ladies and gents," Stefan shouted in a presenter-esque voice, "Today, we witness my little bro verse these three burly buds and his old friend, Connor. If Darko wins, he gains a slave for a day, but if any of the other contenders win, Darko becomes a slave. This track is triangle shaped, and there will only be one lap. I repeat, ONE."

I glanced over to the brutes again, who were all smirking at me. I narrowed my eyes before flicking a brow at them.

"See you at the end of the race," I shouted. The brutes laughed. Their fate is sealed - underestimation of my talents is what gives me an edge.

"Now racers," Stefan said as a woman clutching two flags strutted to the centre of the starting line, "Get ready!"

I flicked up the kickstand with my ankle and pulled the clutch lever with my fingers.

"Get set!"

I pressed the shifter down to first gear. I let the motorbike roll forward.

"Go-"

"WAIT!"

Stefan stopped himself. The woman on the runway lowered her flags, and all of the racers, myself included, turned around.

A guy zoomed in on his bike, weaving his way around the stray people wandering the place, before stopping perfectly at the starting line. He wore a helmet with a flame pattern painted on it - I couldn't make out his face at all.

He lifted the tinted glass on his helmet, just so only his mouth was visible. "Sorry! I want to join!" He shouted. Stefan shrugged.

"Sure."

Stefan restarted his count down. "Aaalll right! Get ready everyone!"

Everyone revved their engine, but I was too focused on the stranger. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was.

"Get set!"

The other motorbikes sounded like they were about to explode. The stranger gripped his cycle's handlebars confidently, looking directly at me. He shot me a quick wave before focusing on the track ahead.

"GO!"

Oh shit.

The other racers sped off in front of me, leaving a huge dust cloud in their wake. I quickly released my clutch and let the motorbike roll forward, before hurriedly twisting the thrust on my handlebar. My bike took off like lightning, catching up to the three brutes with ease. They all let out a frustrated yell when I passed them, waving to them as obnoxiously as I could.

That's what they get for underestimating me.

I faced forward, the brutes now far behind me. I banked the first turn with ease, zooming forward like a hungry cheetah chasing its prey. Two more turns to go.

Soon enough, I caught up to Connor. He noticed me and sped up, but when we got to the second turn, he hesitated, giving me just enough room to slip by him. He shook his head, flicking his middle finger up at me as I passed him. I laughed to myself - at least he can take being beaten better than the three-muscly-musketeers I passed effortlessly beforehand.

Now, that just leaves one turn, one dash to the finish line, and one more person to overtake.

Ahead of me rode Mr Mysterious. His fit frame hugged his motorbike, his gaze fixated on the track ahead of him. I caught up with him, my bike parallel to his. He turned his head slightly in my direction.

"Hey!" I shouted, before opening my helmet's glass cover. "Nice helmet, I think I'll call you hotman."

He shook his head, but amidst the racing, I could hear his laughter. "Whatever Darko. See you at the finish line!"

He suddenly raced ahead, countersteering perfectly against the final bank on the track. I smirked. Finally, some fun competition. I didn't even care as to how he knew my name - adrenaline was overpowering my critical thinking.

I cleared the final corner and twisted the thrust on my bike hard. Soon enough, I caught up with him again. He noticed me catch up and sped faster. I did too. We both kept going a foot further than the other as the finishing line drew nearer and nearer. Stefan's excited figure became more visible the closer we got.

"Aaaaaand, the winner is..." I could hear Stefan shout on his megaphone. The finish line inched closer and closer before I realised it was underneath me. The small crowds on the edges erupted into a cheer, but as I turned around, I realised they weren't cheering for me.

"The new kid won!" Stefan announced.

I stopped my bike, awe and shock washing over me as I turned around, seeing the crowd praise Mr Anonymous. I rode my bike back to the track, watching as Connor and the three brutes pass the line. I parked my bike near Stefan's car. Another race started, leaving just me and Hotman watching on the sidelines.

"So, I believe you're my slave?" Hotman said, slipping off and stuffing his gloves in his pocket before facing me. He was still wearing that flaming helmet.

"I believe you're right. Good job on winning, Hotman. It's not every day a newbie beats me."

"That's such a bad nickname," he said, his voice muffled under the helmet. "And, I'm not a newbie. I've been racing for ages, just not at this particular track."

I lifted a brow. "Who are you, anyway? Unless you want me to refer to you as Hotman for the rest of the day, I suggest you take off your helmet."

He chuckled. "Sure. Just brace yourself."

He unsheathed his helmet. His short brown hair twisted tightly on his head, sweat beads trickling down from the heat. His hazel eyes twinkled as they met mine. His smirk flashed his perfectly white teeth.

I didn't expect this at all.

"Owen? Since when do you ride?!"

He smirked before shrugging. "I've been riding for years. Just goes to show how much people know about me..."

I smiled, realising that this is one of the first proper conversations I've had with him. "I'm surprised you aren't texting. You're always on that phone of yours."

Another smirk from him. "All for good reason."

He turned back to the track. His bushy brown eyebrows furrowed when the three burly bikers zoomed past us, stopping at the finishing line. "Those three are douchebags. They tried to make me crash during the race - I was legit terrified. They got out a crowbar and tried to swing it at my front tire."

I craned my head toward him, my eyebrows twisted with concern. "Dude, you know that's illegal, right? You can go get them fined or even suspended from The Tracks!"

Owen shrugged. "Meh. Something tells me that if I said anything, I would really regret it."

He nodded towards the starting line, and they were all there, resting on their bikes. One was cracking their knuckles and neck bones, the other was hollering like a pig at the flagwoman, and the last was flicking a switchblade between his fingers with perfect precision. Owen laughed when he saw my fear-stricken face.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you'd end up with a fucked up face if you said anything bad about them," I said, my mouth still slightly agape. Owen laughed.

"Who was that other guy that raced?" he asked. "You seemed familiar with him."

"He's an old friend of mine," I said, smiling at the pun I just made. "Emphasis on the old."

His lips smirked. "He seems like a cool dude."

"Damn right I am, kiddo!"

We turned around, and Connor was sauntering up to us, his helmet under his arm. He flashes a toothy smile at me, before clapping Owen on the shoulder.

"Good job out there on the race track, kid. You're pretty good, Darko might have finally met his rival."

Owen smiled sheepishly, rubbing his fingers through his hair. "It was great fun. It was good to meet you."

Connor smiled at Owen, before regarding me. He faced me, his face solemn. "Sorry about those three idiots that joined the race, Darko. Thank goodness your friend won, otherwise, you'd have to deal with their shit instead."

Connor shook Owen's hand. "Don't forget the prize of that bet."

He walked off, leaving us in comfortable silence. Well, it was comfortable, until Stefan began shouting my name from the Referee stand. I groaned.

"Hey, I've got to go, Owen," I said, smiling at him. "It was good racing you. Just know next time, I'll be the one in first place next time we race."

Owen rolled his eyes before smirking. "Whatever man. Don't forget, you still owe me that favour."

"Whatever, Hotman. I'll see you next time?" I said, smirking over my shoulder as I walked away from him. I could see him cringe at the nickname, but a smile forced its way through his thin lips.

"Sure man, next time. See you around."

~~~~~~

"Stefan? What did you need me for?"

I wandered to where Stefan was calling me from. He grunted while waving his free arm up, showing me he acknowledged my presence. He was counting the money he got from refereeing. "Dude, look at this moola! I should referee more often; I could afford Lyra flowers and chocolate at this rate!"

Well, I guess he cared more about the money than seeing me, it seems.

He held up a thick stack of $5 notes. I rolled my eyes. He's so infatuated with her; ever since the party, they've been talking non-stop online. The only reason I know they've been talking is because Stefan keeps giving me minute-by-minute updates. Apparently, they have more in common than I had originally anticipated, right down from their favourite foods to which movie they last watched while making out with someone. I have never cringed more in my period of life - but on the bright side, at least Stefan is happy.

"Is that why you dragged me here? I was making a new friend. I'm sure your bragging could have waited."

Stefan shrugged, his eyes never leaving his hands as he was counting the money. "No, I called you here for two things. One - praise. I don't think I've ever seen a motorbike race before, but you made it seem enjoyable. Kinda upset that you didn't win, but meh!"

I smiled. So he didn't care only about money. That's a relief.

"And two?" I asked. Stefan smiled sheepishly.

"The other reason I called you here is that you know Lyra way better than me and I want to buy her something special with this money."

He looked up at me, his face contorting to mimic a puppy dog's gaze. "Can you please help me get Lyra something special?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're such a sap."

Stefan's eyes pleaded. After all the stuff Stefan's done for me - watch over me while I sobbed in the playground, support my racing, ask constantly if I was okay - how could I say no?

"Sure, let's go now," I said. Stefan nearly squealed.

"YES!"

We walked out of the building. Stefan walked me to his car. He helped me push my bike into the trunk of his Ute, strapping my baby in with as many harnesses as I could find. I threw myself in the front seat, Stefan joining me on the driver's seat.

Stefan was telling me all of these ideas about what present he was thinking to get Lyra, but I wasn't paying any attention in the slightest. I was busy staring out the window, looking out for Owen. I found him, and he produced an adorable toothy smile for me before throwing his helmet back on. He stuck his thumb up before racing those three biker men again, Owen leading ahead of the racing pack.

A slight flicker appeared in my chest. For a second, I completely forgot about Taylor.