Keeping A Straight Face | ✔

15 | Opportunity

D A R K O'S   P.O.V

Sunday, February 10th, 2014 

"Mate, stop daydreaming and focus!"

I snapped out of my musings, prying my eyes away from the red dirt beneath me and faced my biker friend, Connor. His bushy brows were furrowed, and his calloused hand was stretched out towards the track.

"We're about to race," he said, his thick Australian accent reverberating in my ears. "You ain't getting out of this one that easily. Don't forget about the bet ya made last week."

"Bet? What bet?" I asked, confused. He groaned, before shaking his head. I have no idea what is happening right now, I've been too focused on Taylor and Bella to remember or think about anything else.

"You're seriously so forgetful mate," he said, "I wonder about you sometimes. You should be more like the other guys, they remember everything, like elephants-"

"Can you just tell me what I fucking forgot?" I said, snapping at him. He looked at me, his face a mix of confusion and shock.

"Jeez mate," Connor said, exasperated. "Who shat in your cornflakes?"

Connor tends to make up phrases as he pleases, and usually, none of them make any sense; but, he's used this one before. I think it translates to 'Who pissed you off?' I don't even know. Connor is as good with phrases as I am good with nicknames.

"Bella did," I muttered to myself, out of Connor's earshot. It has been a few days since the party, and I haven't been able to shake off what happened. I guess I hoped my Sunday racing would help me forget, but it doesn't appear to be working.

I shrugged, realising he was still waiting for an answer. He sighed, before rubbing his bald head with his palm.

"Ya made a bet after the fit ya had las' week about coming second in a race, mate. The bet was, and I quote from you, 'the best idea in the world'," Connor said, using his fingers as quotation marks. "If ya place first, ya get to pick one of the other racers and they have to do whatever ya want," He said, gesturing to my other friends on the track.

"And, if ya didn't place first, whoever did gets to make you do anything they want."

"This sounds stupid," I said, sneering at the group already gathered at the race track. Half of them were either bike junkies or newbies. I groaned.

"Hey, you made it up, not me. You said something about it being 'revolutionary', whatever that means. I'm just reminding you. You know what happens here if bets aren't followed through," he said, nodding his head to the area's entrance. "You aren't allowed to come back."

I shrugged. I wasn't in the right headspace to race, but a bet is a bet. I just have to win, so none of these guys gets to use me for the rest of the day.

Maybe this race was good for me. Maybe, this race will help me forget about Bella and Taylor. Gunning and focusing on winning might just be the cure for my fixed mindset.

"Sure," I said, making Connor smile, "Let's go."

I wheeled my motorcycle to the edge of the makeshift starting line (It was a checkered fabric tied loosely to the base of two posts on either side of the dirt track), put on my carbon black helmet, and slipped my fingers into my leather gloves. To my left, three brutes that I hadn't seen before gruffed at the track ahead. Their bulky builds squished their bikes beneath them - they won't be a problem for me to pass, especially on the track's turns.

I looked to my right, and it was just Connor there. He was a good racer, but he's too small and old to turn corners properly. Adjacent to him, there was enough space for another rider or two to enter, but nobody did. A few newbie racers gathered on the side of the banks, as well as a few girls, to watch.