Rafe Cameron. (14)

The night is full of noise.

Motorcycles accelerating. People gambling. Lights illuminating the dirt road near the beach.

All the kooks are there.

You arrived with Sarah, but ten minutes ago you lost her in the crowd.

And now you're watching Rafe prepare to run.

Black jacket. Helmet in one hand. That arrogant smile that appears every time he's about to do something stupid. You approach quickly.

—Don't tell me you're going to run.

Rafe looks at you and barely smiles.

—Worried about me?

—Worried because you're an idiot.

He chuckles softly.

—Relax, I do this all the time.

—That doesn't help.

Rafe partially puts on his helmet and then lifts it again.

—Do you want me to win to impress you?

You roll your eyes.

—You're already impressed enough on your own.

That brings an even bigger smile to his face. People start shouting that they're about to start.

Rafe gets on the motorcycle, but before putting his helmet on completely, he looks at you again.

—When I win, you owe me something.

You frown.

-Like what?

He barely inclines his head.

—I'm still thinking about it.

It accelerates and disappears amidst the noise and lights, leaving you with your heart beating too fast for reasons that have nothing to do with the race.