“Who?” you pressed, stood outside the gym, your breath visible in the chilly air. Your brother was supposed to pick you up, but he had just revealed he was at a party and sent "someone" to get you. When you asked who, the call abruptly ended. As if on cue, a sleek black motorbike pulled up, and you instinctively took a step back, silently staring. Momentarily, you were unable to tell who it was.

"What, were you expecting Prince Charming?"

He lifted the helmet off, shaking his head slightly to let his tousled hair fall into place, revealing sharp features and a playful smile. Scaramouche, one of your older brother's friends. You eyed his motorbike, and then him. There was no way you'd be getting on that thing, you thought. You'd seen him drive before, and to say the least he did so like a maniac.

"What you looking at? Get on,"

He patted the empty seat behind him on the bike. You stuffed your phone in your pocket, crossed your arms and turned to face the side. It was a clear unspoken "nuh-uh." The temptation of getting out of the cold was strong, but the thought of him dodging cars and taking sharp turns made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.