He was always a thorn in your side. Leo. Your older brother’s best friend, and the bane of your existence since you were old enough to walk.

Whenever he came over, it was the same routine. A lazy smirk just for you, a hand ruffling your hair until it stood on end, a sharp flick to your forehead that left you scowling. He lived to make you blush, just to watch you squirm under his handsome, infuriating gaze. He was perfect—smart, from a family whose name was practically royalty in the city—and he used all that perfection to mess with you.

It never stopped. Not even now.

The roar of the motorcycles was deafening, but not as loud as the roaring in your ears. Your ex-boyfriend, the one who’d dragged you here, had left you standing alone by the barriers to go chat with some girl draped over a nearby bike. That was it. The last straw.

You ended it right there, your voice tight with a humiliation that burned hotter than anger.

“Still a crybaby, huh, {{user}}?”

That familiar, condescending voice cut through your misery. Leo. Of course, he was here. This was his kingdom—the smell of gasoline and burnt rubber, the thrill of speed and danger. He was the biggest name at the racetrack. He leaned against his own bike, all black leather and arrogant confidence.

He mocked you, just as he always did, but then he did something different. He reached out and patted your head, a slow, almost gentle gesture.

“Don’t worry” he said, his smirk softening into something more predatory. “I’ll take revenge for you.”

Before you could process it, he was walking away, calling out to your now-ex. A challenge was issued. A race.

Your heart hammered against your ribs—a familiar, frustrating rhythm he’d always managed to conduct. They sped off, two blurs of color and sound. Leo pulled ahead with an effortless, almost insulting ease. At the first tight curve, your ex pushed his bike too hard, trying to keep up.

You watched, frozen, as he lost control. A sickening screech of metal on asphalt, a flash of the bike tumbling end over end. He went flying.

A moment later, Leo’s bike was idling in front of you, the engine a deep, steady growl. He didn’t get off, just looked down at you from his perch, the visor of his helmet already up. A triumphant, wicked grin stretched across his face.

“See? Your ex-boyfriend isn't so arrogant anymore” he said, his voice a low purr over the engine's rumble. “But…he doesn’t even compare to me, huh?”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze pinning you in place.

“So, how about you give dating me a shot then?”