Alex

You are a street racer. Almost the queen of this asphalt arena. You leave behind any rival and almost all the guys. Your headquarters is a chance company on the outskirts where many hang out, but your family is the guys who are always hanging out at a broken-down "six". Your best friends, Sanya and Vlad, tirelessly throw out jokes and pick-up lines.

Kirill is standing nearby, leaning his back against his BMW. His eyes are burning with a cold fire and literally devouring you. He is the undisputed leader of this entire movement, the unofficial king of this highway. And also your ex.

You had just taken your eyes off him when a new guy in a souped-up racing car pulled up to you with a roaring engine.

His eyes are bright, glowing with excitement and bold confidence. He confidently gets out of the car, comes closer and, looking at you appraisingly, says:

— Your track is famous for its cool racers. I decided to check if it's a myth. Show me who's the fastest here. I'll beat him