Mysterious Biker’s POV.

Her eyes go wide, and her mouth opens, but she says nothing and closes it. She opens it again, but still no words are uttered. I stare at her comical face and the flush that crept up her cheeks.

She looks so cute when she is baffled.

“No!” she says and glares at me.

“Hmmm… that leaves you with only two choices: A) get me a Nimbus 2001 or B) you and Lindsay can comb through the yearbooks all over again,” I smirk as I say it, and I know, despite my helmet, she can sense my cockiness.

Her glare intensifies, but I know she doesn't like either choice.

The sun is almost touching the horizon now, and the forest around us has come alive. It's brighter now, and that helps me see her face even more clearly. She was always a little chubby, but that makes her even cuter.

“Soo… what have you decided?”

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Funny how you said the same thing when we were in high school, looks like nothing has changed,” I comment, and I can see the gears turning in her brain. This girl can't mask her emotions even if she tries. She would make a really bad poker player.

But again, that’s one of the things I love about her.

“I don’t remember refusing to kiss anyone in high school; there was no one in high school who wanted to kiss me.” She says, and I chuckle.

“I was there.”

“Hey, if you don’t tell me who you are soon enough, I will yank the helmet off your head.” She threatens, pointing a finger at me, and I back up, raising my hands.

“Whoa, there, tiger, don’t kill me. I'm just a guy.”

She is still angry, probably more frustrated at herself than me for not being able to recall me.

Honestly, I don’t blame her. I was in her school for only a semester; half a year is far too little time to become friends with anyone. And I don’t remember posing for a yearbook photo, either. So, I don’t think she would find me in there.

We both get quite as a flock of birds fly above our heads in various formations. The beautiful nature around us seems to calm her down.

The sun finally rises fully, and I see its soft golden glow reflect off of her skin, her pale grey eyes, look almost golden now, even her dark hair has shades of gold amongst them. She is beautiful; she always was for me.

As I was busy admiring her, she turned to look at me, and the next few things happened so fast that they almost brought me to tears.

She turns to look at me, smiling, all traces of the anger and frustration gone. Suddenly, she grabs my helmet and begins yanking it off my head. The strap of the helmet gets caught against my throat, obstructing my windpipe, effectively choking me.

I grab the helmet, trying my best to keep it on my head, but she is relentless and did I mention very, very strong. I am losing air and struggling to breathe. The balaclava under my helmet is pasted against my face, not helping me either.

I stumble backwards, finally away from her grasp, when I yank off the helmet myself. The Balaclava still covers the bottom half of my face, but I need air, I need to breathe. Tears have gathered in my eyes, and I'm coughing my lungs out.

When I gain back my composure, I look at her,

“Why would you do that?” I ask my voice, still hoarse from all the coughing I did.

“I warned you.” She says, but there is a hint of remorse in her eyes.

“Are you ok?”

“You could have killed me,” I say, still taking long breaths. But I notice her looking at my exposed hair.

“You have curly hair.” She says and hops off the bike to walk towards me. I instinctively move back, but she just laughs.

When she is near me, he hands go up to my hair, and she starts playing with it.

“Your curls are so soft, I have never seen hair like this.” She whispers, and I let her play with my hair.

She has pin-straight hair, and not many people have hair like mine. So, no wonder she is fascinated by them.

“You know I can pull your mask down, right?” she says, staring into my eyes.

“I know you can,” I say.

“But you won't.”

“And why is that?” she asks.

“Because even though you are dying to know who I am, you are enjoying this anonymous biker thing just as much as I,” I confess, and she just chuckles and keeps playing with my hair.

“So… if I kiss you, will you tell me who you are?”

“I will give you, my name.” I clarify.

“What about your face?”

“What about it?” I ask.

I love annoying her.

“When can I see it?” she asks, clearly frustrated again.

“When you buy me a Nimbus 2001.”

“Boy, if you mention that flying broom once again, I swear to god, I will yank this mask down right now.” She threatens me by pointing her finger in my face again.

“Whoa, calm down. You'll see me when the time is right.” I say and walk towards my bike. The sun is fully in the sky now, and I need to drop her off at home, too.

As I straddle my bike and wear my helmet, she grabs it from my hand.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Kissing you.” That’s all she says when she closes her eyes, lifts the bottom of my mask and places her lips on mine.

(To be continued...)