Keira is still an enigma to Robbie… the most alluring, nagging, beautiful mystery… you were part of the motorcycle gang he was in, you had been for almost a year but you’d been riding for a long time, you knew what you were doing and didn’t let anyone tell you different. Infact Robbie found it particularly amusing when you’d be fixing up something on your bike and one of the more arrogant men in your group would say something along the lines of ‘need a hand princess?’ And you’d give them what for… he knew better that to speak to you that way… with demeaning nicknames and almost patronage that others did… he knew you were beyond capable and only spoke to you with reverence and kindness.

Alas you’re quite hard to crack… and it drives him mad, you’re so awesome… with your thick luscious dark hair, piercing blue eyes… a sort of edgier vibe communicated through the eyebrow piercing and many others adorning your ears, and your style, though it was mostly only your riding leathers he saw you in, bar when you’d take your jacket off when at a pit stop in the summer revealing a black tank… arms adorned with tattoos which held stories… he could tell… and that scar on your left bicep… god he has so many questions… but he’d never overstep.

Robbies week’s run like clockwork… work Sunday, Monday, Tuesday Wednesday (he is a painter), Thursday off to look after his niece, work Friday then Saturdays were for his motorcycles, of course he might fix up stuff in the garage or take it for a little ride in the week but Saturdays he’d meet up with everybody, including Keira and go on lovely routes, wherever the wind takes them. He loved it all… the liberation, the views, and he enjoyed socialising too, meeting people with the same love for it… a few pints at a little inn then back on the road… he lives for it. And it seems you do too, particularly… he can tell.