Today was the college's open day, an explosion of colour and sound that transformed our usually quiet campus into a vibrant spectacle. I felt a buzz of excitement in the air, the kind that hinted at new experiences waiting just around the corner. Navigating through the throngs of fellow students, I passed by the cheerleading squad, their bright uniforms and enthusiastic chants blending into a cheerful melody. Nearby, a couple of musicians strummed guitars, harmonizing effortlessly while their crowd swayed to the rhythm. Laughter echoed from the science club booth next to the "exploding volcano" display, a classic that somehow still entertained the masses. Sure, there was the chess club, which I never thought was still relevant, but a giggling group of students crowded around it fixated on the intricate strategies unfolding before them.Amidst the chaos, I caught sight of something that made my heart race—a sleek motorcycle parked just beyond a vibrant black-and-orange tent. It stood proudly, glimmering under the sunlight, and, as if drawn by an invisible thread, I found myself squeezing through the bustling crowd, my heart pounding with anticipation. The motorcycle club was unlike any other booth. It was not just about the bikes; it was a lifestyle that resonated with adventure and freedom. As I approached, I could see the members chatting animatedly, a mixture of confidence and camaraderie radiating from them. I had always been fascinated with motorcycles, and nothing excited me more than the sound of powerful engines revving. I walked towards the tent, ignoring the snide remarks from some of the college boys loitering nearby.Then, I noticed him. The centre of attention, he leaned back in his chair with an effortless confidence and a carefree smile that sent my heart racing. His dark, slightly messy hair fell just right over his brow, and his chiselled jawline made him look like a character out of one of those smut movies I secretly enjoyed. Guilty pleasure. He was cute, but what was cuter was the Ducati Panigale V4 R displayed proudly beside him. It was a dream bike for any motorcycle enthusiast like myself.Yikes! Purr baby. I can get wet just by looking at the precious beast.I had joined a couple of motorcycle clubs over the years, notorious for being mouldy with testosterone. The biggest problem? Most leaders of these clubs were the most egotistical, arrogant, and disrespectful men you'd ever meet. They paraded around like they owned the world, flaunting their bad-boy personas. But as my mother always taught me, never judge a book by its cover. Maybe he wasn't as bad as everyone thought. Who knows? Perhaps I'd score lucky this time, and the leader of their club wouldn't be a total ass.I couldn't resist the magnetic pull any longer; I walked a bit closer to admire the beauty of the machine. The sleek black body, the powerful engine, the intricate details—they all caught my eye. Suddenly, our gazes locked, and sparks ignited between us. I felt flushed and hyper-conscious of my black pleated skirt, a stark contrast to the leather jackets that the motorcycle enthusiasts donned with pride. As I was gushing over the bike, the boy that caught my eye chuckled."Like what you see?" he said, flashing me a smile that made my stomach flip.Gosh, that thick American accent."Very much so. I've never seen this one in person before. Is it yours?" I asked, my voice imbued with nervous excitement."Sure as hell, baby," he replied, his tone dripping with confidence.
Smooth talker. I can work with that. I leaned in for a closer look.
"Gorgeous machine," I murmured, unable to pry my eyes away. "Are you the president of the club?" I asked, trying to make small talk while inside I was straining to remain cool and collected."Yup," he said with a big grin. "I created this club when I enrolled here, and now we have over fifty members," he said proudly.That was impressive, especially for a college club in this small town. There must be races nearby.I longed to join a club that possessed knowledge about motorcycles, that could teach me the ins and outs of biking and repairing - not just how to pose with them like a supermodel. The best way to learn was to check his social media—he'd surely brag about his knowledge there. To the rest of the world it would be gibberish but for any motorcycle enthusiasts we understand it like it's our first language. Fluent and all."What's your Facebook profile?" I asked, cutting to the chase. I could feel the eyes of his friends on me, whispering and commenting on my boldness."Wow, she's straightforward," one of the guys said, shooting me an admirable look. "Man, I dig the confidence," he added, a flirtatious wink following.Oh, I know you, I thought, narrowing my eyes slightly at the boy who had so boldly caught my attention. Had we crossed paths before? Somewhere in those old high school hallways?I could almost sense the leader's amusement. "Enthusiastic little thing, aren't you?" He gazed at me, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Look—"Oh, here it comes. He probably thought I was hitting on him. Yeah, that's not what's happening here, mate. I could see the heat rising in his cheeks. "I'm not asking you out," I interrupted, quickly clarifying my intentions. "I want to know if you're knowledgeable about bikes so I can learn something."I noticed the slight tension in his shoulders, and the clenching of his jaw—a telltale sign of someone not used to rejection. But it did not faze me; I wasn't looking to earn points in his book; I wanted to learn.There's always something to be taught. I am building a bike from the ground up, and lately, it's been a nightmare. Someone with knowledge of bike mechanics would be greatly beneficial to me."Do you know anything about bikes?" came a deadpan voice from a figure lurking at the edge of the group, a brooding guy unnoticed until now, who watched with a half-hidden amusement. He leaned against the wall, giving off some strong 'mysterious loner' vibes, a stark contrast to the other boys."Yes. Otherwise, why would I be here?" I answered, a hint of sass added for flair. "This is a Ducati Panigale V4 R," I pointed at the gleaming bike. "It's the closest production model to a competition bike. Its engine? A liquid-cooled 4-stroke desmodromic 16-valve DOHC 90° V4. And that misleading sign?" I gestured disdainfully. "Fastest motorcycle in the world? Wrong. The Kawasaki Ninja H2 has more horsepower, 305 while the Ducati is 240.5. Get it right,"Silence enveloped the group as they absorbed my words, their eyes glued to me in astonishment. I hadn't come for validation or to impress anyone, but there was something invigorating about asserting my knowledge. But oh, how nice it was to see their expressions shift from disbelief to respect—or perhaps intimidation.As for the leader, his face became flushed with irritation and confusion but I remained undeterred. Oh well, he should learn to take constructive criticism.The broody guy with raven hair, raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as though my confidence had caught him genuinely off-guard. I could sense the boys beside him hesitating, caught amid panic and fascination."I can forgive you on that error though," I quickly switched gears, presenting the lightness in my tone that invited amusement rather than hostility. "I simply recommend fact-checking before advertising. It doesn't look good for the club in regards to credibility."The flirty boy cleared his throat and stood up. "Joshua," he finally introduced himself, extending his hand towards me. Once my hand enveloped him, he kissed the back of my hand with a theatrical flair. A wave of irritation washed over me. Womanizer."Joshua Hendricks." The name reverberated in my mind like a distant echo from the past. The asshole jock from high school. Yet here he was, transformed into a mechanic with a passion for motorcycles, seemingly failing to recognize me. Was it possible? Had three years changed him so much that he had forgotten the girl I once was? Or perhaps he wanted a clean slate, just like I did.As I hesitated, uncertainty bubbling within me, he gestured toward the lone figure beside him. "Ryan," he motioned. I shook hands with the fiery-eyed quiet type, feeling an unexpected spark of intrigue. Then came Erik—his soft grin radiating kindness, effortlessly breaking the ice in the otherwise tense atmosphere."Pleasure to meet you, your name, princess?" Erik asked, standing to extend his hand."Hartley." My voice trembled slightly as I replied, my gaze shifting back to Joshua. I searched for a flicker of recognition in his eyes, something that connected us beyond this present moment, but his demeanour remained unchanged. Maybe it's not him."Forgot me, asshat," came a voice from behind, and a tall boy stepped forward, offering his hand. "Dale.""Nice to meet you." shaking his hand as well. "Look," I started again, breaking the silence that had crept back, "I know my style might not fit what you guys are used to, but I'm here to help you make this club something people actually care about. Something credible and respected.""That's fair," Erik responded, his smirk fading into a contemplative smile. "We could use a fresh perspective.""Hadé here," Josh said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He's our club leader. If you're interested, you can check him out on Facebook—Hadé Delgado."Eager for a distraction, I pulled out my phone and found Hadé's profile with no trouble. My heart skipped a beat when I saw his handsome face as his profile picture, and I couldn't help but admire his cover photo, where he stood proudly beside his motorcycle, along with numerous posts on motorcycles that filled his page.Over 1,000 friends. Bloody hell, who needs that many? I usually kept my circle tight, limited to family and a few old acquaintances. I would have friends but I moved around a lot. Surely he didn't converse with all of them.As I scrolled, Joshua leaned in closer, a teasing smile on his lips. "I see you've found our Hadé," he remarked, glancing at my phone screen just as I came across a shirtless photo of him at the beach, his toned body glistening in the sunlight, posing with his motorcycle.Flushed, I looked up, only to find Hadé's chocolate eyes sparkling back at me. My heart raced. This was not helping my growing embarrassment. He had caught me checking out his body. I had to admit—he had a nice body. I'll give him that. But right now, I would rather drool over the machine his photobombing.
"It's a shame you're in the picture hiding this beautiful specimen behind you," I blurted, a teasing edge to my voice as I tried to play it cool, secretly hoping to deflect the attention from myself.But as soon as the words left my mouth, I saw his smirk vanish, and I began to regret my choice of words. I continued scrolling, discovering more about Hadé—his passion for restoring motorcycles, and his dedication to the club. I bit my lip, holding back laughter as I thought, "Well if you're leading a motorcycle club, you should know how to rebuild one."
"Educated. Very good," I said, putting my phone back into my pocket. "Where can I sign up?"I decided to roll the dice on this one. What did I have to lose? If Josh started anything, I'd just transfer to a different college.Before Erik could hand me the paperwork, Hadé snatched it from his fingers. "Listen here, Missy," he said in an unfriendly tone, "We are an elite group. Not just anyone can join." He glanced at the form and smirked. "Oh well, would you look at that? We've run out of spaces.""Dude," Erik pouted, nudging him in the arm.Seriously? He was blowing me off because I called him out on a small error? How petty could someone be?"Stick to your lane, sweetheart. Go join the cheerleaders," Hadé sneered. "With an ass as fine as yours, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful asset for their team."Yup, called it. Run by an egotistical maniac and apparently sexist. "Are you saying you won't accept me because I bruised your ego and I'm a female?" I scowled at Hadé. "How many in your club are female?" I pushed, hoping to expose their ridiculous practices.Hadé refused to answer, and the rest of the club members shrugged, clearly not wanting to get involved."What, a woman can't learn how to ride a motorcycle?" I asked, my voice firm. He didn't need to know I already did."You can ride on the back of mine any day," Josh chimed in, the sudden "gentlemanly" vibe lasting for all of a second. "A pretty face like yours doesn't need to learn."I was just starting to "like" him—maybe I could promote him from arch nemesis to ass-twat. That was until he opened his mouth again. All this time, he hasn't better himself but only worsened as a human being."You know what?" I said, pushing back against the gathered group of boys who snickered at my expense. "I've changed my mind about joining. You all seem like slime dogs and not worth my time." The moment the words slipped out, a small voice of doubt whispered in my head. Was I being too dramatic? But self-doubt was silenced by the raucous laughter coming from Hadé. No surprise there."Look at you," he said, fixing me with that infuriatingly smug expression. "A woman doesn't dress like that unless you're a prostitute." He gestured dismissively at my outfit, a simple black-and-white pleated skirt paired with a cropped sweater. I thought I looked cute and casual, but Hadé clearly felt the need to sound off on my fashion choices.I wonder why, bozo here, was friends with the slimmest of people. Josh just corrupts people wherever he goes.
I opened my mouth to retort, ready to unleash my pent-up frustration, but he didn't stop there. "But judging by that tongue of yours, I doubt you could earn decent money as a prostitute," he finished a smirk dancing on his lips. My heart hammered in my chest, a mix of outrage and disbelief washing over me."In case you haven't noticed, Hadé, I don't need to dress provocatively to gain attention," I shot back. "You could learn a thing or two about respect from that." But he simply shrugged, his expression infuriatingly calm."Join the cheerleaders. It's the headquarters for sluts!" he declared as if it would chase me off into oblivion. Instead, it ignited something in me. Was I going to let this pasty egomaniac get to me?Why you little weasel! I couldn't take it anymore. I slapped him across the face, eliciting gasps from the crowd that had formed around us. "My tongue! MY TONGUE!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "You sexist ass!"I snatched the clipboard from his hands and tossed it to the ground."I wouldn't want to be a part of a club filled with sexist, disrespectful assholes like yourself." I spat the words in his direction, then caught Josh's bewildered gaze before storming off.The crowd around us erupted into whispers, some cheering, as I found my path. I may have lost the chance to join the club, but I gained something far more valuable—my self-respect. And that was worth more than any motorcycle club could ever offer."I wouldn't want to be a part of a club that's filled with sexist, disrespectful assholes like yourself" I spat at Hadé and then glanced over towards Josh who stood there in bewilderment.He didn't expect that, good! I've changed.The crowd around us gasped, and some even cheered as I stormed off. I may have lost the chance to join the club, but I gained something much more valuable - my self-respect. And that was worth more than any motorcycle club could ever offer.