am-books Chapter 124 The Race (2)
Chapter 124 The Race (2)
Hugo awkwardly pushed his bike to stand beside Lisa, the tires squeaking with every movement as if protesting his every step.
He cleared his throat, trying to act cool, even though the abandoned airstrip around them gave off an eerie vibe.
The track stretched endlessly into the dimly lit night, its uneven surface dotted with cracks and potholes that made Hugo's stomach twist.
"So... uh, is this the track?" he asked, forcing a casual tone, though the sight of the challenging course made him want to turn back.
Lisa turned to him, her intense gaze locking onto his like a laser beam. Her dark eyes sparkled in the dim light, and her lips curled into a teasing, sultry smile. "What else would it be, genius? A runway for planes?"
Hugo scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure how to respond. Then he noticed her just staring at him, her eyes soft but expectant. There was an awkward silence.
'Wait... is she waiting for me to say something? What do I say? Compliment the track? No, idiot, it's a racetrack, not a painting! Think, Hugo!' Then it hit him like a slap.
"Oh," he said, straightening up. "I missed you, Lisa."
Lisa's eyes widened, and for the first time, her confident smirk faltered. Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked away, brushing a strand of her hair back as if trying to hide her smile.
"I... well..." She coughed, trying to regain her composure. "Don't think I'm going to go easy on you just because you're being sweet, alright?"
Hugo breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure how she'd react, but it seemed like he'd hit the mark.
"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, a small grin forming on his lips. "But just so you know, I'm not going easy on you either. You'd better watch out."
Lisa raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. "Oh please. You can barely handle that rusty old thing you're riding. You really think you stand a chance against me?"
"This 'rusty old thing'," Hugo said, patting the handlebars of his rented bike, "is a masterpiece. It's got soul, character, and—"
"A death wish?" Lisa interrupted, laughing.
Hugo groaned, but he couldn't help smiling. The banter felt good, even if he was on the losing end of it.
After a few more jabs and jokes, Lisa climbed onto her sleek, professional-looking bike and strapped on her helmet. She looked like a goddess of speed, her movements fluid and confident.
"Helmet on, Hugo," she called over her shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Hugo fumbled with his helmet, the straps tangling like a snake refusing to cooperate.
Determined not to give up, Hugo leaned forward and pedaled harder. But just as he started gaining momentum, his front tire hit a small pothole.
The bike lurched.
"No, no, NO!" Hugo screamed as he wobbled violently, his arms flailing like a bird trying to take flight.
Gravity won.
With a loud thud, Hugo crashed to the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the night sky as pain shot through his bruised elbow and knee.
'Great. Just great. I'm going to die, and it's going to be because I couldn't even stay on a bike. The System is probably laughing at me right now. Stupid death missions.'
But then, something sparked inside him. A stubborn flame refused to go out.
"No," he muttered, sitting up and brushing the dirt off his scraped palms. "This isn't over. Not yet."
Ignoring the stinging pain, Hugo forced himself to his feet. His legs wobbled, but he steadied them. He glanced down the track, where Lisa was still far ahead but not yet out of sight.
"This is my race," he whispered, gripping his handlebars tightly. "And I'm not giving up. Not until it's over."
He climbed back onto his bike, took a deep breath, and pushed off again. His heart pounded as he pedaled with everything he had, his mind focused on one thought:
'It's not over until I say it's over.'
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