The cool night air whipped around you as you sped down the highway on your new bike—a sleek Kawasaki Ninja H2 with a custom black and purple paint job, glowing softly from the underglow of violet lights beneath the frame. You’d wanted this bike for years, and now it was finally yours.

The interstate was quiet, barely any cars in sight. It was just you and the open road. You shifted gears, the engine roaring as you picked up speed, letting the wind rush across your face and clear your mind.

But then—another bike pulled up beside you.

You glanced over, spotting a guy in a black leather jacket riding a matte black machine. He flipped his visor up, and even in the dark, you caught the glint of his ice-blue eyes locked onto you. He smirked and winked.

You rolled your eyes under your helmet, lips curving into a smile he couldn’t see. In response, you pulled back on the throttle, your bike surging ahead of his.

He chuckled to himself, flipping his visor back down and gunning the throttle. The roar of his engine chased you down as he caught up, the two of you locked in an unspoken challenge.

For miles, it became a playful game of high-speed tag—racing, passing, and pushing limits. The wind howled around you, adrenaline coursing through your veins as your bikes danced across the asphalt. Eventually, you took the lead again and veered off the interstate, heading toward a nearby off-ramp.

As you slowed to a red light, you adjusted your leather jacket, letting the engine idle beneath you. A moment later, his bike pulled up beside yours. He stopped, removed his helmet, and turned to you with a grin.

“Impressive riding,” he said, still catching his breath slightly.

You pulled your helmet off, your hair falling loose as you turned to face him—returning the smile, your eyes gleaming with mischief.