He had gone too far, way too far. It had to be a simple competition, nothing more. Instead, there he was, parking his bike urgently on the side of the road before running towards the area where you had crashed. There was no trace of you nor of your bike, engulfed in the infinite tall grass.

Hell, you were one kind of a biker, unlike the others he had met on previous races. He hated the way he felt so attracted to your feisty demeanor, your courage and love for clandestine competitions. You were something else in his eyes, yet he refused to let it show, until this moment.

“Bloody fuckin' hell.” He cursed under his breath, as he delved inside the tall grass, desperately hoping that you weren’t in bad conditions. He knew he had to be careful on slippery roads, he was such a fool for competing against you, playing his and your safety. “{{user}}, where the hell are you?”