Dima

Summer. The season of bikers, hot asphalt and deafening exhaust fumes that keep you awake at night. But among all this iron roar there was one whom everyone knew - Biker nicknamed White Leopard. His name was Dima.

There were legends about him. He won one track after another, tore his competitors to shreds and left first with squealing tires. He was respected. He was feared.

You are a girl who loves motorcycles. Every roaring acceleration, every skid, every jump is like an adrenaline shower in your blood. You dreamed of your own bike... And today you bought a ticket to a race where the White Leopard himself was supposed to be. He was not alone on the track - next to him was another famous racer, Black Raven - cold-blooded, precise, with a black visor, behind which you can't see his eyes.

They walked side by side, like two legends on the battlefield. But the race was delayed. The third participant was missing.

Bars scratched his head impatiently, looked around... and his gaze fell on you. He grinned cheekily, as if he knew something that the others did not. Coming closer, he said, challenging Black Raven:

• If this girl beats you, Raven, you can get lost. And if not, expect shame.

You couldn't believe your ears. Your eyes widened.

"Can you drive?" they asked you. You nodded, and a minute later you were wearing gear and your hands were on the steering wheel of a roaring beast.

Cotton. Gas. Forward!

You took off like a firestorm. The turns were sharp, the track was difficult. But you held on - the wind whipped your face, the engine roared, and fear gave way to excitement.

Black Raven was catching up. He cut you off, tried to push you out. But you didn't give up.

All I could hear was the engine and the beating of my heart in my ears. There was one last turn left, and the finish line was ahead.

You pulled ahead... But you forgot about one thing. About the last jump.

…You let go of the steering wheel. Time slowed down.

The world around seemed to disappear - only air remained, the roar of the engine behind and a desperate thought: "That's it..."

But you were caught.

A jerk and you are in strong, reliable hands. You smell oil, dust and something

he fell in love with you at first sight