Chapter 2
2
MALICE
“A re you sure I shouldn’t stay and help clean?” I ask Mrs. Olsen, the day camp manager.
I glance around the elementary school gym. Hula hoops, basketballs, orange cones, and jump ropes are strewn everywhere. Tables, chairs, and art supplies also need to be put away.
There was no school yesterday or today for the entire school district, and I volunteered to help in my teammate’s place. Jace is out with some kind of GI bug. Poor bastard.
“The kids said they would clean in exchange for time to see your new motorcycle.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Is that okay? I should’ve asked first, but the kids were so excited that I answered for you.”
“Not a problem, Mrs. Olsen. I don’t mind at all.”
“Thank you, Malice.” She blows on the whistle hanging from her neck. Kids stop what they’re doing and run up to us. The girls look at me with curiosity and the boys with admiration.
I should stomp out their admiration ASAP. I am not role model material, not with the trouble I’ve been getting into lately on and off the football field. Except that football season is over. How do I blow off steam in the small farm town of Cambridge? The endless wheat fields and roads that lead to more small and boring towns are suffocating.
“I hear you all want to see my newest ride?”
They nod.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
They follow me out. I’ve changed into my riding gear. Leather pants. Leather jacket. Hardcore boots. I shrug my backpack higher on my shoulder and shove the double doors open with my meaty paws.
The kids run up to my sleek black and white Suzuki bike. I drove the GT-R yesterday. They’re used to seeing me driving my sports car in town, but the bike is a different story. I ride my pride and joy when I’m in the mood to show off what the result of hard work can get a guy.
The kids walk around the bike and snap pictures.
“Can we take a picture of you on it?” one of the girls asks.
“Sure thing, Emma.”
The girl beams when I say her name. Emma is a regular at day camp. Like me, her parents are gone a lot for their work. Hers are gone so much that her default parents are her parents’ hired help. Their gardener and the housekeeper came with Emma to the school’s science fair, for fuck’s sake.
Who leaves the parenting to hired help? Jesus H. Christ. If I ever have children, I plan on being there for them, whether it’s the Spelling Bee, field day, or a championship game.
I straddle the bike and grab my riding gloves and helmet from my backpack before strapping it to my back. The kids back up. I put on my helmet, and with my hands on the handlebars, I tip forward and stare at the open road. The kids snap a side view. I turn and look straight at their cell phones. More pictures are taken.
“Video next,” Emma says. “But first, I want a picture.” She hands her phone to one of her friends. I curve my fingers into a half-heart on my helmet. Emma does the same on her face. Her friends squeal with delight, and massive amounts of pictures are taken.
I’m smiling wide beneath my helmet. These girls and their infatuation with guys on motorcycles. Emma steps away, and her friend returns her phone to her.
“Video, video, video,” the kids chant.
I laugh. These kids are insatiable with their need to capture and post everything to their social media accounts. There’s no harm in indulging them. It’s been a long time since I garnered this much attention—the good kind—and I am all in for the fanfare.
I take a lap in the parking lot before driving onto the main road with both hands on the handlebars and the tires on the pavement. I won't set a bad example by doing tricks with the bike—not that I would. This bike is something special, and special things should be well taken care of and protected from damage.
As though the universe heard my thoughts of something special, well taken care of, and protected from damage, a blacked-out Escalade drives past me, going in the opposite direction.
The back passenger-side window is down. A girl with long black hair is leaning out. Her beautiful face is tipped to the sky, and a smile spans her face. She is out, catching the wind.
I look at her. Her gaze holds mine. Her smile doesn’t slip. In fact, she blows me a kiss. For a moment, I forget the bad blood between me and Rue Lee.
I catch her kiss, bring my hand to my helmet, and release her kiss on the spot over my mouth. She clasps her hands to her heart and smiles wider. I shake my head and smile back, unable to help myself.
Rue is one of those girls that can pull off adorable and sexy as fuck simultaneously. She’s adorable blowing that sexy-as-fuck kiss that drew my attention to the sparkle in her dark eyes, so dark they’re almost black. And don’t get me started on her lips, the top one fuller than the bottom one. I still dream of sucking her top lip into my mouth as she begged me to help her come using my fingers.
I shake away the memories and rest my palm on my hip. It’s in my best interest to get over Rue before graduation. Otherwise, how will I leave this town behind when she still owns pieces of my heart?