Saving Zan | A Hayes Grier Fanfic

Chapter 1

    The soft ground flew by beneath the wheels of my bike. The reddish brown dirt ground wasn't too dry, but it also wasn't too wet. My bike was a Yamaha YZ 125 to be precise.
My eyes locked onto my next target. The whoops. They were a series of small hills that I had to speed over.
Motocross was my life. Literally. I had grown up in an extremely small town, so small and in the middle of nowhere that I had to drive forty five minutes to get to an actual dirt bike track. My father had died when I was little, I didn't have any memories of him and my mother refused to talk of him. My mother was never around, always traveling to exotic places or trailer parks with any guy that she could get. She'd essentially left me alone for half my life which is why at seventeen years old I had decided to move to North Carolina. I was living paycheck to paycheck but I was better off like this than back with her in Indiana.
I now lived in a rental apartment that was only fifteen minutes away from North Carolina motorsports park, the place that I was currently riding at.
I sped over the whoops and took a tight corner, extending my leg and leaning to the other side so that I didn't fall over and crash into a dirt pile. I was dirty enough as it was.
    The sounds of my dirt bike drowned out all the other noises and in that moment the only thing that mattered was the vastly approaching jump. I rev my bike and apply more pressure to the gas, speeding up before going airborne and gaining my much needed air time. I landed cleanly, the suspension of my bike taking the brunt of the impact.
    One jump down, I eyed the upcoming medium sized ones. I easily scrubbed it and then spun to the left, facing the biggest jump on the track. It took just mere seconds for me to be upon the jump, and the landing was feet away when I saw a black blur near where I would land.
    Panic swept me and I faltered. I clipped the take off ramp with the back wheel of my bike, which caused me to be off straight away.
    I couldn't stop my bike. By the time I had seen the blur it was too late, I was in the air. My grip loosens on the handlebars. I try my best to shove the bike away, still mid-air, so that the giant hunk of metal wouldn't crush me.
    My body slammed into the dirt on the other side. I rolled. Once. Twice. Three times. And then my body finally came to a stop. I lay on my back groaning, the impact of my fall had taken all the air from my lungs.
    The world was spinning and I could hear shouting that was getting closer. The track had been relatively empty because it was a week day and mostly everyone was in school or at work.There were only a few beginners on the peewee track. Who could be yelling?
    "Don't get up!" Someone shouted, "don't move!"
    Except I was fine, a bit sore, but fine. I slowly pushed myself up onto my elbows, and then sat up completely. I rolled my wrists, shoulders, head, and shook my legs.
    "I'm so sorry!" A deep voice calls.
    I glance to my right and spot another rider, dressed in navy blue Fasthouse gear. He offers a hand to help me up and I gladly take it. "Shit! My dog got loose! I didn't expect him to come running out here, normally he just watches! Are you okay?"
    I nod, and I was okay.
    "Is he okay?" I ask, gesturing to the black lab who is sniffing my hand, his tail wagging happily.
    "Yeah, he's fine. Scared shitless maybe, but fine. I'm really sorry man, that was all my fault." He reaches out and pats my shoulder hesitantly.
    "What makes you think that I'm a guy?" I ask, a grin pulling at the corners of my mouth inside my helmet which must have been obscuring and muffling my voice.
    "Girls don't really ride dirt bikes," he says nonchalantly.
    I can't help setting him in his place so I say, "That's sexist." And then I place my hands on either side of my helmet and lift it off. The cool air from outside of the helmet greets me and I can't help but relish in how good it feels.
    My shoulder length black hair had fallen around my face, shading it from the guy's eyes. I shook it away now, letting the soft wind catch the ends and blow them away from my face. The guy makes a shocked noise in the back of his throat and reaches up awkwardly to adjust his black cap with a white H detail, atop his head. "Wow."
    "Guess you were wrong!" I tell him, moving towards my bike that was still lying in the ditch between the jump and the next set of whoops. It was dirty but thankfully it looked to be okay. The engine still hums with power and I hurry to turn it off.
    "What model?" The guy asks, rubbing his palms against the navy fabric covering his legs.
    I glance over at him, a sweaty lock of my raven hair falling in front of my face yet again. "I almost kill your dog and the first question you ask is what model my bike is?"
    He does a half shrug with one shoulder, "It was partly my fault. I'll buy you something inside if you're done out here."
    I rub my knee which had taken most of the impact and was the most sore.
    "And an ice pack!" He adds.
    I look at him, and then down at his adorable dog who was sitting obediently at the guys feet, tail still wagging.
    "Why not?"