Chapter 1 #2
I don’t respond, leaning into the curve and fighting the temptation to touch the concrete as she had done. Emilio does. His hand tears from the asphalt, ripping away his skin at the high rate of speed. He’s a grinning fool when he shows me the blood and grit of his fingertips.
It’s a stunt trick often seen in racing.
Something I used to do for show and rarely for balance. The physics of a well-positioned body doing the work instead. That small gesture tells me more about her.
She races or has raced.
Something we have in common.
Common ground is all I need to win her over from Hollister.
Does she prefer lean-built, dark-featured Pacific Islanders or a tattooed golden boy with a penchant for cheating? Maybe she’s a freak, desperate to be sandwiched between the twins that share every woman they meet?
The mysterious rider glances back just once, surprised to see us chasing after her. She then throws us a low V sign, a brief greeting among bikers.
Her fingers point to the ground for a split second, too fast to be longer than a blink of an eye, before she adjusts her posture, radiating confidence. Then, with a burst of speed that seems to come from nowhere, she pulls ahead, leaving us trailing in the wake of her audacity.
“She’s got guts,” I mutter through gritted teeth.
The engine growls beneath me like some great beast straining at the leash. I pull ahead, overtaking Holli, who flashes me a knowing grin. The smile of a competitor, as the wind sucks the tears from my eyes and sends my shirt flapping high up my back.
As we approach the final stretch, the one with the sharpest turn along the river, she shows no sign of slowing. Instead, she leans deeply into the curve with a grace that’s almost infuriating, her bike’s tires kissing the asphalt in a perfect arc.
I blast ahead.
My racing experience shines through as the guys slow down and I accelerate. Rarely have I struggled to overtake, much less keep up with a female rider.
They just don’t have the experience, hours on the bike, and stamina to push themselves this hard for this long. Yet, there she is. Me in female form, gaining distance as her tires eat up the road between us.
My forearm strains against the throttle.
The ache is familiar and welcome.
A throwback to my younger years, when my body ached all the time due to racing injuries. She releases her handle to toss the pink braid over her shoulder, catching the wind and flying behind her helmet.
The casualness is shocking as I glance down at my bike, seeing we’re well past 120 mph. A speed at which no one should release their hand to fool with their fake hair.
Then she blasts forward, forcing her bike beyond its capacity until she’s gone, disappearing into the shadows she emerged from. Her taillights, a pair of red eyes wink out of existence, taking the sticker and helmet hair with her.
We slow down, gathering at the usual end of our loop, hearts pounding and breaths coming in short, heavy bursts. Holli runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, a rare look of defeat etched across his features despite the wide grin he has for me.
“You in love, Diego?”
He tosses his head in her direction. Dominic sides up on my right, dragging from his vape with his usual disinterest. Both sets of eyes land on me with his question.
They know I don’t chase women. There are too many options for that, given all the schools in this city.
I’m not the player that Hollister is, nor the quietly committed Dominic, but somewhere in between.
“Who was that?” Massi asks, both hands on his upper thighs as he catches his breath. “If she likes it that fast, she’ll definitely love a few rounds with me.”
“You mean us,” Emilio adds, shoving his brother while pumping his hips, replicating what they’d do to her.
“Why settle for Diego’s micro dick when you can have two real dicks. One down her throat while the other is shoved up her—”
“Shut the fuck up, Emilio.”
Dominic’s words mix with the exhalation of his latest vape. He’s never one to get vulgar with us out of respect for his mystery woman. Or that’s what Holli says. I think it’s because the dude is a fucking genius, and the twins’s idiocy grates on his nerves.
I used to wonder why he hung out with us mere mortals, but then I realized that all intelligence needs an outlet. Bikes, vaping, and lifting are his only social activities outside of his studies and labs.
Holli’s gaze continues to bore into me as he sits astride his bike, his forearms crossed with a casualness that exudes more confidence than anything.
The image of that hot pink bike and its fearless rider burns bright in my mind as I look down the dark street she blazed down.
“She’s got you all bricked up, huh?”
Massimo knows, since he used to be in competitive sports, and understands what increased testosterone does to a guy. Emilio tries to reach for my cock, wanting a feel, and I shove his ass away.
“What the fuck, brother? Diego doesn’t want you touching his junk.”
He shoots his brother a bloody bird after almost falling over his bike.
“He knows I don’t like cocks. I just wanted to cop a feel of his tiny dick,” he defends, which gets an annoyed snort out of Dom.
The whole micro dick debate started at a party a couple of years ago when Emilio was drunk off his ass, showing everyone his cock and wanting to compare.
With his pants around his ankles, he kept tugging at this guy’s pants and almost got his ass beat before Massimo and I got across the crowded house party to get to him.
He sagged heavily against his brother. His hand fumbled for my pants when I slapped his face and said I have a micro dick to get him to knock it off. Something I thought he’d forget in his drunken haze, yet somehow, that seemed to stick in his brain.
“What the fuck, Em? What happened to your hand?” Massimo asks, his eyes wide with surprise, reaching toward him.
Em wipes his gravel-coated digits across his shirt, leaving a bloody trail across his midsection, and whispers to his sibling.
“Good luck with that, man.” Dominic ignores them, clapping me on the back in sympathy. “She’s probably halfway to the Cape by now.”
“Probably.”
“Are we going to keep standing around like a bunch of pussies, or are we going to ride and find some pussies?” Em whines, toying with his engine and revving it like an impatient child.
Dom casts him a death stare and tucks his vape away.
“I’m out,” he says, reversing his bike and angling it in the opposite direction.
“Come on, Dom, don’t be a pussy. You always bail. It’s not fair.”
Either Emilio doesn’t hear the whininess in his voice or doesn’t give a shit. Either way, he’s successfully run Dominic off again, resulting in Dom texting me tomorrow asking if we can ride out of town.
It’s almost like clockwork with these two.
“Hollister, Diego, I’ll catch you guys later. See you, Massimo.”
Dom scratches his beard, glares at Emilio, and rattles the accelerator before taking off, leaving Em shooting the finger at his back.
“What a little bitch,” Em huffs, his immaturity almost too much for me.
Holli puts his hand on Em’s forearm, telling him to chill. He doesn’t listen, pulling his bike ahead, indicating he’s leading the formation instead of the usual Hollister.
“Don’t mind him. He’s just antsy because his semester is shit due to late registration.”
Massimo constantly makes excuses for Emilio. I suppose it’s a twin thing or maybe a brother thing. I wouldn’t know as an only child, but he’s got to get tired of it at some point. Being his brother’s keeper is a full-time job with that idiot.
“Yeah.”
Emilio rarely gets on my nerves compared to Dominic.
Once I categorize people, their actions and emotions don’t affect me.
It’s only when I can’t figure them out, or they don’t act according to their assigned category, that it irritates me.
The twins are categorized as overgrown children who could kick my ass if they wanted to, although neither is really the fighting type.
I tried to share my philosophy with Dominic since he is hair-pinned triggered by everything the twins do. He asked for the science behind my theory as if I sent it through a chem lab to draw my conclusions.
Sometimes that motherfucker is just too smart for our group.
Emilio and Holli take off.
Massimo follows and leaves me to ponder my thoughts as I take up the rear.
It’s been a while since I had a steady girl.
I’ve got plenty of free time this semester, but with a heavy load in the spring, I’m not sure I can commit to a relationship.
Friends with benefits would be ideal, particularly with someone who rides.
As the guys bullshit ahead, arguing about what bar we’re headed to, I’m already plotting a return to the loop. Not just for the thrill of the ride but to find my mystery rider.
“Once I do, I’ll ride her ass and pull her hair.”