Freya

A smile curled on her lips as she prepared breakfast, the image of him looking utterly ridiculous the night before lingering in her mind. Seeing him with Nova had boosted her confidence. It was clear he and the horse would need a long time to find their balance, which reassured her that she wasn't in any rush to master his motorcycle.

She sat down at the small, round, and worn wooden table in the kitchen. The dark cabinets, relics of the 1970s, hadn't been updated since. The whole house exuded a grandparents' vibe, but to Freya, it radiated a cozy warmth and soul.

Danielle shuffled into the kitchen, giving Freya a tired glance. She made herself a cup of tea and sank into the chair across from her.

"So, how did it go yesterday?"

Freya shrugged and gave a sly smile, taking another bite of her toast.

"I'm feeling good about this. Really."

"Well, let's say you actually win the bet..." Danielle began, taking a sip of her tea. "How do you know he'll keep his side of the deal?"

"Are you suggesting we write a contract?" Freya asked.

"Mhm. I think that should be the first thing you do. You don't know if you can trust him."

Danielle was sharp, often thinking a few steps ahead. The thought hadn't occurred to Freya that he might back out or fail to follow through if she won.

Freya stood up and went to the hallway. She slipped on her worn gray sneakers and pulled on a hoodie that smelled of the stable. As she stepped outside, she saw him swing his leg over his motorcycle in the parking lot. She jogged up the gravel road as he started the engine, the low growl of the bike growing louder. Freya stepped into the middle of the road, waving her arms.

The rear wheel skidded slightly on the gravel as he came to a stop. The engine noise faded, and she stared at him through the visor.

"Did you wake up with a death wish today?" he asked, his voice low through the helmet.

"You can't live fully unless you're willing to take a few risks."

"Cut it out — you're shaking. That confidence you're faking is easy to see through."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I want us to write a contract."

"Oh? About what? That you saw my incredible skills with the beast yesterday and want to back out already?"

"Not quite, but I'm glad you're feeling confident," she said, smiling. "I want a binding contract to make sure you keep your end of the deal when I win."

"'When' you win?" he leaned back slightly on the bike, his helmet still on. His black t-shirt clung to his frame, emphasizing his toned build.

"Aren't you supposed to wear a leather jacket or something when you ride?" she blurted.

He removed his helmet, running a hand through his tousled hair. Even with helmet hair, he was annoyingly handsome. "Distracted?" he teased with a grin.

"You're insufferable. I just don't want you dying in an accident before you fulfill your end of the deal," she retorted.

"Mhmm... back to the contract, then? I'm fine with writing one if it helps you sleep at night. But we're including a clause for you too — that you never set foot here again. Ever."

"Fine. And if I win, you'll hand over the stable and finance it."

"I'll have my lawyer draft it today. You'll get a copy soon," he said, slipping the black helmet back on, hiding his blue eyes and that infuriating smirk.

The engine roared to life again, gravel spraying as he tore down the narrow road.

Seth

Seth roared down the country roads on his motorcycle, the engine's growl drowning out his frustration. Riding was the only way he knew to vent his anger, to escape the thoughts threatening to pull him under. Of course, Tom had called again—furious when he found out Seth had delayed the construction plans. He tried to explain that it was part of a strategy, the only way forward, but his father had hung up before he could finish.

The sky was a clear, endless blue, and the breeze was just cool enough to sting his skin as it whipped past. He knew riding without full gear was a bad idea, but his self-control was frayed. There was a thrill in tempting fate, in feeling truly alive.

After a few laps around the backroads, he turned off toward the local store. His fridge was embarrassingly empty, and it was time to fix that. He parked the bike and stepped inside the small grocery shop.

In a town like this, you were always seen. He'd grown up here—everyone knew everyone, or at least knew of you. After years in big cities, the constant visibility was jarring.

He filled his basket, satisfied with his modest haul. He also knew how spoiled he'd been when it came to food. His bank statements told the story of someone who ate out far too often. Cooking was rare, but now, he didn't have much choice.

As he approached the checkout, he sighed at the long line. He queued up, glancing ahead—and saw them.

"Stalking me now?" he smirked.

Danielle turned first, followed by Freya, her expression already brimming with irritation.

"Seems like you're the one following us, since you're behind us in line," Freya shot back.

"Hm, you wish I was following you."

"Why would I? You're already a parasite who's invaded our home."

He grinned, impressed by how quick she was with her comebacks.

"Why did you accept the bet then? Now we're stuck seeing each other even more."

"Because it's the only way to save the stable. What else would I do?"

He shrugged and stepped to an open register. Of course, the girls finished paying at the same time, so they ended up walking out together.

"Come with me," he said to Freya, nodding towards his bike.

"Why?"

"Don't be difficult."

She exchanged a look with Danielle, who took the grocery bag from her.

Freya rolled her eyes, sighed, and followed him.

"Your turn," he said, gesturing to the motorcycle seat.

"Are you out of your mind? I can't ride now... not on the road... I—"

"Whoa, relax. Don't have a panic attack. Are you regretting the bet?"

Her eyes flickered with stress and hesitation. He couldn't help but feel a small satisfaction.

"I meant you'll ride with me, just to feel the bike in motion. You can handle that, right?"

She glared at him. "Of course. You just caught me off guard."

"Good." He held out the helmet to her.

"You can't ride without one."

"Don't tell me you're starting to care, Lynn."

"No, but I don't want to get arrested because you're breaking the law," she snapped.

"Oh, so you're worried about dealing with the police, not me dying without a helmet?"

"That's it, I'm going back to Danielle."

As she turned, he caught her gently by the arm.

"Let go of me."

He released her and nodded towards the bike.

"Come on, just get on."