HADÉWho did Hartley think she was? I found myself drenched in irritation and something else I refused to name. Women, in my mind, were just accessories-pretty backpacks for the ride, easily dismissed when they didn't play their part. Yet here she stood, the fiery Hartley, challenging everything I thought I knew.Her passion for motorcycles was intoxicating, each word she fired back at my mocking laced with expertise. She didn't wither under my jabs; instead, she had the audacity to push back. I suddenly felt exposed, my shield of indifference cracking.The rejection stung more for the humiliation than anything else, especially with my brothers watching. Tossing her under the bus felt like my last line of defence; after all, this was a motorcycle club, not a dating service. That spitfire attitude didn't belong in our world.We've had women join the club before, but they were always after a thrill ride, a temporary connection. Once we were done with them, bitterness was all that remained. As for the few who were interested in motorcycles, they barely knew anything. It was always the same response: 'I like that bike, it's cool because it has a big flame on it.' Childish and shallow. There was no passion. But...Hartley was different. She was the first woman I had come across who knew her motorcycles.I watched as she stormed off, her skirt fluttering defiantly behind her. Damn, she had a fine ass, I'd probably tap that but it was that fire in her eyes and that bitchy attitude that unsettled me. My type was always submissive, and uncomplicated. But Hartley was anything but that. She rocked the bike culture with her unique vigour, her disdain for conformity striking a chord I'd never heard before."Cute and dumb are good for fucking," I muttered to myself, but the truth gnawed at me. Hartley was anything but boring. "Hey, would you look at that? Some spaces just opened up," I said with a grin, but the guys just frowned at me.Josh slumped, his shoulders heavy with disappointment. "There goes my dream girl," he sighed, throwing a glance at the departing Hartley."As if she's going to go out with you after that comment," Dale fired back, shooting me a filthy look as he got up from his chair. "Well, I'm going to ditch. I don't want to associate with a group of sexist pigs." The words seemed to echo through the tent, piercing through the camaraderie we usually had."Dude, what the hell?" Erik grumbled. "We need girls to join."I shrugged, trying to dismiss the urgency. "It's fine, we'll find more." But inside, I knew it wouldn't be easy. Hartley was the first woman I'd seen in ages who seemed perfect for our club.Erik, our vice president, slapped the clipboard against my head, rattling my thoughts."Ouch!" I groaned, rubbing the back of my head."You want the board to shut us down? We need a girl like Hartley in our club! The board already suspects we discriminate against women." he continued."Statistically speaking, this is a man's world," I countered, unconcerned. "Convincing a girl to join will be hard. Yo Ryan, go work your magic."Ryan was the broody type, a silent storm in the corner. He was the best charmer out of the group, which is surprising because he didn't say much. As he stepped forward, Erik shoved him back. "You're going to apologise to that girl and get her to join.""I'm not doing that." I replied, crossing my arms defiantly."Three months, Hadé! We're on borrowed time. Either you recruit her or the club faces closure!" Erik's frustration hung in the air, thick as tension. "Is that what you want?""You said the board suspects; there is no evidence." I shrugged, not taking this seriously.I had a plan. We just needed to find the right girl-shy, reserved, and naive. It would be easy, I thought."Now they do, you idiot!" Erik snapped, his voice rising with urgency. He stood abruptly, angst radiating off him. "We need to make this right before the board summons a meeting with the club representatives."He stormed away, leaving me alone to ponder the impossibility of what he was asking.******Word had spread across campus about the Hartley incident, a small but electric debacle that felt like it'd overshadowed everything. Our tent remained noticeable but empty as if an invisible barrier kept students at bay-no one wanted to approach the club of 'macho motorcycle enthusiasts.'I sent Ryan to talk to the freshman girls, but he returned with his shoulders slumped, empty-handed, the clipboard unmarked. Maybe I had overreacted with Hartley-just a bit."Apologize, man," Ryan pressed, frustration simmering in his voice."Did you offer free lessons?" I replied."Of course, but now every girl thinks I'm a sexist asshole." He hoisted his bag, worn but reliable.Josh lounged back, an amused grin crossing his face. "Because you are.""No! I just don't want anyone riding my bike.""Correction: women. You wouldn't let Hailey ride it, either. You're just like me," he leaned back, shrugging. "Nothing wrong with a little sexism. Women should stick to what they're good at cooking, cleaning, nurturing, and sex."Ryan's jaw clenched. "You don't know anything," he snapped at Josh before storming off, his boots thudding against the ground."What's his problem?" Josh asked, curiosity bubbling just beneath his casual facade."Hailey broke up with him." I let the truth hang, knowing his conflict-filled every crack in their relationship."Seriously? I thought they were ride or die."Now it was just me and Josh, and his gaze lingered on mine. "I think you need to apologise publicly."As if I was willing to bow down to the pressure of a pretty face."You don't have to mean it." he added."Well, if I don't get laid soon because of you, I'm going to be one cranky ass member," he joked, a charming smirk breaking through the gloom.He doesn't even like motorcycles and only joined the club because it's a chick magnet.******As the sun dipped below the horizon, streaking the sky with fiery reds and purples, the open day buzzed with anticipation. Clubs packed up their banners and folded tents, but my stomach twisted as I caught sight of Hartley and Erik approaching."It's about to get messy," Josh murmured beside me. I barely registered him as my attention zeroed in on Hartley, her demeanour a storm cloud ready to burst."So, you have bipolar or some mental illness?" she asked with all the tact of a freight train. My breath caught in my throat, and confusion clouded my response. "No..."Her eyes narrowed, undeniably fierce. "You're a coward."I felt a sharp tug of frustration rising in me. "Did you come all this way just to insult me? Because I can find better use of my time than this," I snapped. Hartley smiled, as though I'd just performed a silly trick."If you'd bothered to apologise properly, there might've been a chance for forgiveness," she shot back."And what are my chances of you accepting it?" I challenged."Zero," she replied without missing a beat."Well, it's not much of a small chance if it's zero," I muttered, my cheeks burning under the gaze of curious onlookers. "Do you even know how to do basic maths?"Hartley's smirk was defiance wrapped in arrogance. "What's your definition of an apology? Because this isn't it."As more words flew between us, I couldn't help but admire her tenacity-how could someone so infuriating be so captivating? With every verbal jab, something within me began to shift.I watched her with growing irritation as she folded her arms, the sunlight shimmered off her hair, framing her fierce expression, and drawing me in."I appreciate your apology, Erik" she said, her tone sharp as a knife. "Even though it wasn't your responsibility. Good luck with your club."Oh no, she wasn't going to act high and mighty and just walk away. I found myself grabbing her wrist.I always thought I was good at navigating conflict, but facing Hartley was like trying to charm a tornado."Listen," I started, frustration lacing my voice. "I get why you're upset. I messed up. But I do want to make things right. I dig your passion and I do want you to join our club. I was just upset because you embarrassed me in front of my friends.""Oh really?" she shot back, scepticism dripping from her every word. "Your apology feels as genuine as a photocopy of a Picasso. You only want me to join because your club is known to discriminate against women."The crowd surrounding us hummed with anticipation. I could almost hear the imaginary popcorn crunching in their hands, eager for the drama to unfold. Why couldn't this spitfire just accept it and be done with it? I should have known better than to think she'd easily accept my apology"I'm not asking you to join because you're a girl," I defended, though it was only making things worse. "I want you because you're-""Because I'm what? A pretty face for your boys' club?" she interrupted sharply, "A few girls approached me after explaining to me what a bunch of assholes you and your friends are"With that, my composure teetered on the edge of collapse."Do you have to be such a pain?" I snapped, the words escaping before I understood the gravity of my tone."Maybe I'm a pain because I refuse to let guys like you belittle me," Hartley said, her voice unwavering. "You're an absolute joke..." she began to ramble on but all my attention was on her eyes. But there was something about the way she lifted her chin, the determination shining in her eyes, that struck an unexpected chord in me. Not to mention the twitch of her nose when she's angry. It's kinda cute."Are you even listening to me?" she demanded.She was relentless, a ferocious little piranha."You've got me all figured out, haven't you?" I snapped back, feeling frustration boiling over."Yup, sure do," she replied, smirking.She made me want to tear out my hair. But amidst my anger, I was transfixed by her spirit."And if this is how you treat women, you're outright toxic!" she finished, her words echoing in my mind like a fierce anthem.At a loss, I mumbled, "I was trying to apologise..." But she was already turning away, disinterested and to make matters worse, she let out an exaggerated yawn. Did you see just yawn in our argument? You little spitfire. My anger had reached its peak."You know what, you're a fucking bitch." I sneered.Erik shot me a look of disbelief. Hartley turned her back on me. "You're not worth my time. Good luck on your endeavours," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.As she walked away, a strange urge tugged at me. "Fuck your endeavours. We don't need you anyway."