"Must've missed it," the mysterious biker replied nonchalantly. He had recovered from the initial shock of me getting suspicious of him.

"Go to the roundabout down there, see? Then, simply make a U-turn. Six blocks away from here, you'll be there," I replied to him in a neutral, informative voice.

"Okay." His voice was melodic yet grave. "Will I be anywhere near the Statue of Victoria?"

"Oh, no," I answered in a heartbeat. "Once you're on Main Avenue, you'll have to cross five side streets or so. But you don't need to count. You'll see the Statue of Victoria. It's huge. You can't miss it. No wonder you got lost if you were looking for the statue in this area. Where do you come from?"

"Thanks," he replied, not caring to answer my question.

I guessed that small talk wasn't any of his strengths.

While I was examining the final result of my temporary fix, he didn't say anything further. I didn't either. I was starting to feel uncomfortable with that heavy kind of silence between us. And that staring on his behalf.

I started to wonder whether he was undressing me with his eyes as many guys did. But I discarded that thought soon enough. There was something off in his green eyes. They seemed to be unfocused as if he was engrossed in some faraway thought, in a faraway place.

But when he realised I was looking at him, he got hold of his helmet with more strength than before. He had nice, big hands. He seemed nervous although there was no need to. I was dying to know why, but I didn't dare to ask him.

He turned his head to stare at the empty road from where he had come and then turned it towards the roundabout in the opposite direction. As he did so, I could see the thick tendons in his neck.

His hair brushed his neck and his cheeks in the process. It seemed to bother him a bit. He combed his hair backwards with his hand again, just like before, displaying biceps and triceps that would have made a CrossFit pro jealous. An instant later, he turned his face back to me.

I immediately stopped staring at him, turning my head to the bike, but it was too late. Our gazes had briefly locked.

I felt stupid for ogling him and blushed. I was almost sure that he might think I was a hormonally-imbalanced teenager, to phrase it nicely. Great.

Since my job was done, I decided to put the bike back up, putting my hands on the handlebars as I did so.

"Eντάξει. It's done," I said trying to sound normal but I was nervous. I had accidentally let out an 'okay' in Greek, one of my mother tongues besides English, but he didn't seem to mind. "I don't mend bikes that way usually, but this should do. Remember: fill the coolant tank asap."

His gorgeous eyes seemed gloomy. He could've thanked me, but it was obvious that there was something that was nagging him, something he didn't want to share. Maybe he was late and wanted to leave, but felt awkward about our unusual encounter or didn't know how to thank me.

I admitted to myself that I'd miss that pair of intense, green eyes.

And his arms.

And his chest.

Okay, fine – everything but his stubbornness not to talk more than a few short sentences.

"Take it. Come on," I added, assuming the leading role once more.

First, he got his large black backpack and put it on his back. He held his helmet between his elbow and his ribs. Then, he softly got hold of the handlebars right when I took my hands away.

When he got on the bike, he turned the engine on and smiled at the nice sound it was making. I smiled too. There was no smoke, but it wouldn't last long.

"See? A girl knows her tricks," I said then as if I was wearing the golden Olympic medal for the greatest mechanic in the world.

It was the perfect time to thank me and be on his way, but he didn't. He was just staring at me with satisfaction.

That reaction on his behalf spurred my pride. He turned out to be the first guy who praised my work – silently, but his smile was worth it.

At first sight, he looked like the classic heartbreaker, with those bright emeralds for eyes, that long, silky hair, that well-built physique, and that wonderful smile. On top of that, that black-all-over look and that taciturn and silent mood made him too mysterious to ignore. Besides, the bike was out of that world.

But I could be wrong. I wasn't good at reading people. Like Uriel. In the beginning, I had thought he was a nice guy, but he wasn't.

"Are you sure you won't get lost again?" I asked. "Where are you going?"

"I won't get lost," he whispered darkly at me.

Next, he put his helmet on in a hurry. I guessed that he was pissed. I rolled my eyes.

"Anyway," he said with a muffled voice due to the helmet and sighed, "thanks, babe. You've saved my life."

Babe?!

I didn't like that pretentious tone of voice. I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly. I even hoped he was acting, because I suddenly didn't want him to be like any other guy I had met: a self-important dick.

"I owe you one, Prinzessin." I didn't need a translation for that last word. I couldn't believe he had just said that. I hated such pet names.

He didn't even wait for an answer when he took the breaks off and fled.

A few seconds later, he reached the roundabout. He made the U-turn, and then he rode in the opposite direction from where he had come. He was driving in a manner that he knew I was watching him.

He made Dam Road look ridiculously small and insignificant on that godlike bike, speeding as if he owned the asphalt.

But, to make matters worse, when he was passing right by where I stood, he made a finger salute at me.

What was that about?!

As he drove, his eyes had been fixed on me, not on the road. He had still got his head turned to me while he drove away. A couple of blocks down the road, he grabbed the handlebars once more with both hands and disappeared out of my sight.

I was astonished and disgusted.

"He's so conceited, the fucking bighead!" I whispered to myself in anger.

I honestly couldn't make sense of who that guy was. First, he had been dark, silent, and mysterious. But in the end, he had acted like a smug idiot.

He had even called me 'babe' and 'Prinzessin'. Come on! He was the cute little princess in distress, and I was the knight in shiny armour who had saved his arse – not the other way around.

Some things would never change. That guy was as arrogant and stupid as the rest of them.

Hello, dear sugar cubes!

Do you like this mysterious rider, aka Siegfried? Do you think this is his real self?

*Note on foreign words: 'Eντάξει' means 'okay' in Greek (pronounced entáxei)
'Prinzessin' means 'princess' in German.

Don't worry, I'm not planning on inserting lots of terms that aren't in English, just some here and there to give some characters some multicultural traits.

XOXO

MS