you’re a new rider.

riding sports motorcycles has been your dream ever since you were a kid, and you finally managed to scrape up the money to buy one: a cheap but barely used ninja 400, perfect for a beginner like you.

after investing in a helmet, gear, and a go pro camera for safety, you and your wallet decided that all that was left for you to do was just ride.

but riding solo could only be so fun, especially when you had moved to a new city and had no friends yet.

so, you reached out on instagram, hoping to find any bikers in your area. to your luck, there’s a whole biker community that does group rides and meets every now and then.

so here you are, with your baby motorcycle, in a parking lot full of people who are rev-bombing the shit out of their liter bikes.

part of you wants to turn around and go back home, but you’re also fascinated by all the different motorcycles you see—and the hot people.

one guy in particular catches your eye, though maybe you caught his eye first.

he’s wearing no gear, only a white wifebeater keeping his torso clothed. he’s huge and muscular, and you can see the tattoos inked on his arm that accompany a multitude of scars.

he’s also sitting on a sleek black yamaha yzf-r1; very fast, and very expensive.

you’ve got no idea why he would be looking at you of all people, but you catch his dark brown eyes watching you from behind his flicked up helmet visor.

the biker group is about to head out on the night ride, and people begin to exit the parking lot. you’re about to follow suit, when a motorcycle rolls up besides you.

it’s him.

“hey,” he greets you. “haven’t seen you before. are you new?”