SIXTEEN
M y mind currently worked overtime. My mother called me today after years of no contact. We've got a huge upcoming event that's more stressful than I anticipated, and these unknown emotions I feel towards Nicolas had me staring into the distance while I tried to make sense of it all.
Everything felt overwhelming and I needed an outlet. Which meant there was only thing that would make me feel better in this very moment.
Already clad in my all black attire, I grabbed my helmet, gloves, keys, and hurriedly made my way out of the front door before locking it. Using the little remote, I clicked on the blue button and the driveway door opened up.
When I stepped into the dimly lit area, I realised that I hadn't ridden in months. I looked at my motorcycle and smiled. My mother was always against me using the vehicle because apparently it was unladylike .
The appropriate response as a mother should've been was that it could potentially be dangerous, but she was always more concerned about our image than anything else.
My father, on the other hand, was the one who taught me how to drive. After their divorce, I opted to stay with him, but she didn't allow it.
However, two years later, after being mistreated by her day in and day out, I couldn't handle it anymore and made contact with my father—telling him everything which resulted in me living with him. That was eight years ago.
She still continued to call and text me, sending me the most disgusting messages a child could ever receive from their parent. I didn't tell my father because I knew it would upset him, but the day he found out about it was the day he blocked her from my phone and made it clear that if she ever tried to contact me again, he'd take the legal route.
Needless to say, she followed his instructions until today, but the only reason she called me was because she needed some financial assistance, which I immediately declined.
I put on my gloves, wrapping the straps around my wrists to secure it, and then shoved the helmet over my face. The action was more aggressive than I intended it to be, but alas.
After getting onto the bike and making myself comfortable, I inserted the key into the ignition and started the engine. The sound of the exhaust purring to life was like music to my ears and I relished in it, already feeling the anxiety slowly dissipating.
After allowing the engine to warm up, I shifted into first gear and slowly released the clutch lever before pulling back the throttle and slowly exited my driveway.
I clicked the blue button on the little remote again to close the door. When my bike was on the road I drove off, going slowly at first and only picked up speed once I was in the main road.
The wind whipped against my thick jacket and blew my ponytail backward. Out of all the days I decided to straighten my hair, it just had to be today. I weaved through the traffic, going from one lane to the next.
I already established a convenient route so that I could easily drive back home without any hassles. I accelerated, the speed sending a rush of adrenaline through my body. Every nerve felt alive and all of the thoughts that flooded my mind earlier was completely gone. However, Nicolas still lingered in my frontal lobe.
I told him that I wouldn't forget him, which was true, but I didn't realise the severity of that statement until this very moment.
My turn was up ahead and I prepared to go left, the motorcycle leaned sideways as I drove. When I entered the other street, the calmness compared to the main road brought me a sense of peace.
It was only due to the fact that I slowed down that I noticed the black Mercedes-Benz AMG GT 4 door coupe. Instantly, my skin prickled because I knew who it belonged to, due to the personalised license plate.
Nicolas' car was parked in front of the local bank, and at that moment, he stepped through the rotating door with one hand in the pocket of his slacks. He didn't acknowledge me at first—probably because I wore my helmet and I don't think he knew I could ride.
I came to a stop next to his car and this captured his attention. He looked up from his phone and raised an eyebrow, eyeing me suspiciously. He looked scary as he watched me. Judging by his body language, it seemed he was ready to fight if need be. When I removed my helmet, he chuckled softly and I could see his body physically relax.
"Gabriella Sevilla," he murmured. "You never cease to amaze me." The smirk on his face nearly made me weak in the knees and I wondered how coincidental this encounter was.
Here I was, trying to rid him from my mind—only to end up seeing him in the flesh once more. "That's a good thing though, right?" I asked. His eyes flickered to my thighs and I could only imagine the thoughts that were running through his mind right now.
"When I think of you, it's only good things." He stepped closer to me. "Who taught you how to ride like that?"
"My daddy."
I could see his pupils dilating when the word daddy left my lips. This man needed to be studied because his ability to turn every situation sexual was truly remarkable.
" Daddy's little girl." He was now standing so close to me that I could smell that intense scented cologne, despite the fact that the wind was blowing strongly. "You straightened your hair."
"How observant of you."
He reached out to me, grabbing a hold of my ponytail and running his fingers through the strands. The gesture was innocent, romantic even, but of course it turned me on. Not that I'd ever admit that to him.
"I'm more observant than you think, especially when it comes to you."
"Ask me why I'm even riding in the first place," I urged him.
"Why?"
"To get you out of my mind. You're all I can think about, you and that slick mouth," I groaned softly. "It's infuriating, you're infuriating."
Nicolas laughed, a hearty laughter that gave me a boost of serotonin. "That's funny, really, because you don't want to know how torturous it's been for me." He ran a hand through his black hair. "Since the night you left me, you're all I've been able to think about, Gabriella."
"Then I suppose we're in the same boat."
"You're in the boat, but I'm drowning." His words left me speechless and I stared at him in bewilderment. I gulped, suddenly overheating and my attire certainly wasn't helping.
"You don't mean that."
He took a step back, looking down the street. "You're just in denial. I don't think you understand how badly I want you. I've never been this…" He seemed hesitant, as if struggling to find the right words to utter. "I have to go." He flicked his wrist to check the time.
I frowned. "Who's running away now?"
He snapped his head in my direction. "Repeat that."
"I think you heard me loud and clear." Nicolas narrowed his eyes, loosening his tie in the process.
"You and I both know that I'm not running away, but if I were to continue this conversation with you, the inevitable would happen."
"You'd take me home with you?"
"Yes," he said bitterly, rubbing his temples. "The amount of self-control I need to exercise around you will send me to an early grave."
"I don't think self-control is something you could possibly struggle with." He smiled, but it seemed like that was a front to mask his true emotions.
"It's funny, really," he said softly, looking down the semi busy street. "I don't struggle with self-control at all. Until you're around me. Then I suddenly don't know what the meaning of that term is. You truly don't know the extent of the emotions I experience when you're close to me."
Where were we? I'd completely forgotten because I was taken aback by his words. I couldn't remember how I even ended up here or what I was doing prior to this. "If only you knew, Gabriella. You've got me wrapped around your finger without even trying."