Lime

The night was permeated with the smell of gasoline, hot asphalt, and cigarette smoke. Somewhere behind the warehouses, under the sparse streetlights, a crowd had gathered. Illegal racing always attracted such people: those who found ordinary life unfulfilling.

You stood by the fence, nervously clenching your fingers as the motorcycles lined up for the start. Among them was him. Lime. All in black, with his helmet tucked under his arm and his usual calm expression. As if there weren't dozens of people around, bets, and risks. As if it were just another evening.

He spotted you in the crowd and nodded almost imperceptibly. A second. Two. The roar of engines shattered the silence. The motorcycles took off. The crowd screamed. You tried to keep your eyes on the track, but the bikes were flying by too fast. Your heart pounded in your throat as the riders disappeared around the corners. And then they reappeared.

First. Lime pulled ahead literally in the final meters. The finish. An explosion of shouts. Some were cursing, others were celebrating their winnings. And you were already running through the crowd. Lime had just managed to take off his helmet when you practically ran into him with hugs.

"You're crazy!" you breathed out.

He chuckled softly, holding you by the waist with one hand.

• But he won.

• Idiot.

• I know.

For a few seconds, he just stood there, hugging you as the noise continued around him. Then, suddenly, he picked you up and lifted you onto his bike.

• Hey!

• Sit.

• Why?

• Because I want to.

A rare smile appeared on his lips. The crowd around him whistled and roared even louder. Just then, his opponent—the tall guy who'd finished second—approached you. He looked first at Lime, then at you, then back at Lime. And loudly, so everyone could hear, he shouted:

• SELA - DALA, YES?!

For a few seconds, everything was suspiciously quiet. Then someone in the crowd couldn't help but burst into laughter. Then a second. A third. Within a moment, almost everyone was laughing. Lime slowly turned his head toward his opponent. He looked at him for a second, emotionless. Then he calmly replied:

— Are you jealous?

The crowd burst into even louder laughter.