"There are sides of us that only certain people get to see. The privilege is not in knowing the person, but in being trusted with their hidden world." ~ Unknown
Outside, Michael handed Selina a helmet. She pulled the decorative stick from her hair, letting the dark waves tumble free, then secured the helmet over them.
The engine rumbled to life. Selina leaned close to his ear. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see," he said. "It's a surprise."
They rode for what felt like a lifetime, weaving through streets Selina had never seen, until the buildings grew older, the lights dimmer. They turned into an alley that seemed like nothing at first, dark, narrow, unremarkable. But at its end, the space opened into something unexpected.
Selina's breath caught.
It was a racing strip, an underground one, tucked away from the main roads, hidden in the belly of the city. The alley was illuminated by the headlights of dozens of bikes, their engines idling, their riders clustered in groups. The air smelled of gasoline and adrenaline.
Michael parked the bike and helped Selina off. She was still staring, wide‑eyed.
He handed her a black mask and a cap. She looked at them, then at him. He was already pulling on a similar mask, black, simple, revealing only his grey eyes.
"Why are we covering up?" she asked.
"It's better not to show our faces here." His voice was quieter now, more careful. "It's not dangerous, but… I like keeping this part of my life separate. By the way, I go by 'Alex' here. You should pick a different name, too."
Selina considered. "Then, I'll use Lia."
"Okay." He nodded toward the crowd. "Let's go."
The underground world was alive with energy. Riders revved their engines; spectators lined the makeshift track, their faces half‑hidden in shadow. Selina followed Michael through the crowd, her eyes wide, taking in everything.
He led her to a corner where a small group had gathered. Three boys and two girls, each with an impressive bike. One o f the girls leaned against a military‑green Harley Davidson; the boys flanked racing sports bikes in sleek, aggressive colours.
When they spotted Michael, they smiled and came forward.
One of the guys, tall, broad‑shouldered, with an easy grin, clasped Michael's hand in a complicated greeting, then bumped fists. The others followed suit. Selina watched, fascinated. She was seeing a side of Michael she had never known existed.
"So," the tall one said, turning to Selina, "Who's the gorgeous lady?"
Michael stepped slightly closer to her. "Guys, this is my friend Lia. We've known each other for years. She's new to this, never even ridden a bike, so don't bother her. Especially you, Kevin." He shot a pointed look at the one who had spoken.
Kevin raised his hands as if he were being accused. "I wasn't going to."
Michael rolled his eyes and ignored him.
"Lia, this is Max. He's the leader of this group. The oldest here, too. He's a great stuntman."
Max nodded at her, his smile warm.
"This is Kevin." Michael's voice was dry. "He's a playboy, so beware. He's around our age and good at both racing and stunts."
"Hey!" Kevin protested. "Don't ruin my image like that!"
Michael continued without pause. "And this is Luke. He introduced me to this group. He's a few years older than us, and a great racer. We always tie."
Luke was different from the others. He wore a mask too, but his eyes were calm, observant. He carried himself with the quiet assurance of someone who belonged to a higher class, money, education, and privilege.
"Hi," Luke said simply.
Selina nodded. "Hi."
Luke looked at Michael the way someone might look at a rival.