Maybe it was a combination of not wanting to be late to the bookstore and not wanting to get thrown off by the crazy whack who was sitting behind him on his bike. The one Xan could swear was a twelve year old. Or mental. Maybe it had been a while since he'd had someone else on the bike with him; it was bound to shift the balance of the machine a little more. Maybe that was why he burning pavement at a dangerously high speed. Xan wasn't entirely certain. But whatever it was, he was a little off his game.
They flew into town, and he didn't even see the figure crossing the street until it was too late. It was like time slowed down though. He could practically count the individual strands of hair flying every which way. Despite that, he couldn't slow down. A large bag went flying, sending books scattering.
A litany of panicked swear words flew from Xan's lips, but he didn't even register that. He had never hit anyone before. Hell, he usually even stopped for a squirrel crossing. Clearly, it was just not his day. The bike came to a screeching halt, almost sending them into a tailspin.
Within moments, he was up and running. There was the poor victim, on the little island divider that separated the road. For a fleeting moment, he thought she was dead, but the yelling soon absolved him of that notion.
"Oh my god, are you all right? Are you hurt? Oh god, oh god..." he resisted the urge to grab her and shake her by the shoulders. "I'm going to call an ambulance! Hold on."