Chapter 7: The art of name-calling

Gunshots rang out as the bike travelled along the highway bridge, sandwiched by a dozen black cars. The biker took out her weapon and pressed the trigger again and again, shooting down her enemies with cold efficiency. Windows shattered and cars crashed into both the sides of the road.

The ensuing chaos caused the remaining cars to swerve and collide into each other, resulting in a massive pile up of topsy-turvy vehicles. The bike, however, escaped unscathed with a few deftly executed turns.

The bike sped up towards the end of the bridge, made a sharp pivot to the left and skidded to a perfect stop. The biker raised her weapon once more, and fired multiple shots at the heap of cars in front of her.

There was a loud explosion as fire erupted and metal parts were sent flying in all directions.

As the billowing smoke rose high up into the sky, the biker removed her helmet and shook her head slightly, letting her dark brown and silky long hair cascade down her back.

A slight crease appeared between her brows as she stared solemnly at the wreckage before her.

"I have finally avenged you, mother..."

"That's a really corny line..." I muttered under my breath.

"And... CUT!"

There was applause all around.

"Excellent, Jessica!" the director shouted in Korean as he jumped up from his seat.

A bunch of people immediately swarmed around the girl, taking over her helmet and handing a drink to her.

I pushed myself off the wall I was leaning against. Yours truly has to get back to work.

I was crouching on the floor, collecting the stuff that was scattered all over when I heard a coughing sound behind me. "Oh hello," I said lightly as I continued packing, "Congrats on finishing the last scene."

"...yes," the husky voice replied rather proudly, "it was quite easy."

I raised my eyebrows but did not say anymore. She continued to hang around me awkwardly.

Finally, I put down whatever I was holding and turned around to look at her. She was still dressed in her leather biker suit, the skintight material leaving much to one's imagination.

"You know, at the way that you're lingering around, I would think that you can't bear to leave me or something."

She processed my words for a while before retorting "N—no!"

I ignored her. "I know, I know, I'm such a nice person."

She gave me a "yeah, right" look.

I stood up and stuck my hands at my sides. "Oh come on, I taught you how to ride the bike right? Won't you agree that it was really effective? It took only three days, and you're not dead!"

The girl stared at me indignantly. She obviously remembered the way I had taught her.

Ahem. Ah, let's just say that the lessons were rather entertaining. For me, at least.

So it wasn't necessary for me to sit behind her in order to teach her how to ride the bike. Neither was it a requirement that I snuggle up so close that there was almost zero distance between us. But that's the whole point; her reactions were simply hilarious.

In my defense though, I would submit that it wasn't my fault that she blushes so easily. Who would have guessed that it takes just a little more physical contact or a more suggestive choice of words for her to turn bright red?

And though it was most amusing making her squirm, there were also certain, err, incidents, which I was totally not responsible for.

Take, for instance, teaching her how to make a turn.

It was the middle of the night and we were cruising steadily along a deserted road. Ice Princess was controlling the handlebar, but as she was still a little wobbly, I kept both hands loosely on the handlebars, beside her hands.

"Okay, we're doing well so far, so we're going to learn how to turn left."

The girl was a picture of utmost concentration as she nodded her head.

"It's not just about turning the handlebar," I explained, "You have to shift your weight."

I took my right hand off the handlebar.

"Now turn the handlebar…"

"…and shift your weight." I pressed my right palm against her hip.

That did it.

"Whhhoooaaaaa!" My right hand quickly grabbed the handlebar to steady the bike, which screeched to a halt.

"What are you doing?" I asked exasperatedly. The bike had swerved like a drunk on rollerblades!

She glared at me. "Your hands!!"

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "I was just trying to tell you how to shift your weight."

Really now, do I look like a ert?

She merely huffed and turned back to face the front.

"Alright, let's try again."

The engine rumbled. This time, I kept my hands firmly on my lap. For all the little jokes I've been playing on her, I do know that teasing while on a high speed vehicle is a big no-no.

The bike accelerated rapidly before she shifted the handlebars. I wasn't going to touch her again, but perhaps to spite me on purpose, she leaned so hard to the left that the bike tilted too much.

She instinctively applied the brake.

"Not so hard!" I shouted as the bike started to skid.

Holy!

I lurched forward, and my left hand clutched the handlebar while I desperately tried to use my body weight to tilt the bike back upright.

It wasn't working.

I slammed my left foot down on the tarmac and could feel the heat burning against my sole as the machine con