HADÉ
What a shitty start to college this year. I'd just lost my crown to an unknown rider, and the worst part is that she's a woman. The crowd worshipped her like a goddess. They even gave her a nickname; Neon girl, because of the stupid flashy neon pink lights she had on her wheels.
"Come on, man, it's just one race," Josh said, putting his arm over my shoulder.
She rides in all nostalgia in her neon hot pink helmet, that leather outfit that hugged her sexy curves... why am I thinking about her body...
"It's much more than that." Erik joined in, taking a seat at our booth. "She broke his undefeated win record,"
"Really?" Josh said, raising a brow.
I nodded, unable to hide my disappointment. I used to be the king of street racing. I had never lost a race before and was confident I could beat anyone who challenged me. But this girl, she had taken the title away from me.
"Yeah, if you bothered to show up to every checkpoint, you would know that," Ryan chimed in, leaning back casually while playing with his fidget spinner.
I place my head on the table, staring at the guys. Do I even deserve to be called a motorcycle enthusiast at all? The sounds of laughter and revving engines haunted me; I could still see her speeding past me, her ponytail flying like a racing flag as she claimed victory. I quickly swiped at the tear that had slipped down my cheek, ashamed.
"I should just quit and sell my bike," I muttered in defeat, wincing as the sting of my last race reverberated through my mind.
"Damn, he's hit rock bottom..." Josh observed, dismissing my pain with a casual glance. "You want me to hook you up with a chick?"
"Sex, that's your answer?" Erik asked, incredulous.
"Works for me," Josh replied shrugging, but his smirk faded as he noticed my expression. "Looking at you is making me feel depressed." He shifts my head so my forehead is flush against the table. "That's better. I can't see your moppy face."
"The chick got lucky," Ryan said quietly, attempting to lift my spirits. "It's a fluke."
"Dude, speak up," Josh urged, but Ryan pressed on, "You were just off your game because of Hartley. Rechallenge her. Show her who you are."
"Off my game?! Please, he's never had a girl affect his riding," Josh scoffed.
"Clearly, she did," Ryan retorted, spinning his fidget spinner with a seriousness that belied the childish toy. "Was she on your mind when you were riding?"
"What are you implying?" I glared, unwilling to acknowledge the truth simmering beneath my bravado.
"I don't know, man, you tell me." Ryan spins his fidget spinner fast with one finger stroke.
"I don't know why you like those things so much," Josh chimes in. "You're a grown man."
"He's overstimulated. It helps him concentrate," said a melodic but infuriating voice from my right. I turned to see Hartley, draped in a blue waitress uniform. Her smile was sharp like a knife, and at that moment, I hated her.
But damn she's stunningly... awful. Yes she looked awful wearing that waitress acting all innocent and sweet. Blue looks hideous on her. I hate her.
"Oh, you got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath.
"He's joking. He's had a rough night." Josh elbowed me, whispering, "Careful, bro. Let's not insult the pretty waitress. She handles our food."
If looks could kill, I'd have wished for her to drop our dinner. "If you're implying I'd sabotage your food because of my confrontation with Hadé," she retorted, "you're mistaken."
"Not in the mood, Hartley," I growled, scrolling through the menu, desperate to ignore her sharp wit.
"Poor baby, did something happen?" Her smirk reappeared, teasing and impossibly inviting. And that damn 'baby' made my heart flutter and tangled my thoughts.
"Cheeseburger. Fries. No salad. Mountain Dew." My order came tumbling out, a defensive barrier against her.
"Yes, Hadé." She jotted it down, her pen swirling like the chaos she brought. "One egotistical asshole burger with a side of three inches."
Ryan dropped his fidget spinner. I didn't just hear that—did I?
"Did she?" Josh mumbled, eyes wide.
"Savage," Erik mumbled under his breath.
Nope. Mind was blown, we all heard it.
"Hartley, I apologise for Hadé's behaviour," Erik interrupted with a grin, casting me aside with a reproachful gaze.
I kicked him under the table. "Why are you always apologizing to this bitch? She just insulted my—"
"You insulted me first, pig," she spat back.
Instinctively, I wanted to lunge at her, but instead, I shouted for the manager. The words flew from my lips like an uncontrollable wildfire. "If this is how you treat your customers, you should be fired."
The other customers were starting to stare at our booth, and I could see the manager striding over from the kitchen. My heart raced as I glanced at Hartley, her eyes glistening with tears. What the hell? Why was she crying?
"Sir?" The manager's voice broke through my turmoil. "Is there a problem?"
"Yes, this waitress—" I began, but Hartley turned, her tear-streaked face a portrait of despair. "Hartley, why are you crying?" the manager asked, his tone shifting to concern.
"He called me a slut," she choked out, turning her drama to eleven. "I was just trying to take his order, and he started with these horrible names."
Her waterworks intensified, and I could feel the collective judgment of every customer weighing down on me, an oppressive cloud of scorn.
Are you kidding me? That's a lie! Technically, sure, I had made a regrettable remark this morning, but that was neither here nor there!
My mouth fell open, shock rattling me. Hartley had turned this entire scene into a twisted masterpiece. The audacity! I could feel every pair of eyes in the diner shift toward me, their glares poised with judgment.
"I think we should clear out," Erik said, abandoning ship. "I'm so sorry, Hartley. Hadé has issues." And just like that, he left me hanging. He just threw me under the bus. Asshole.
I was ready to defend myself when the manager's voice cut through the tension. "Hartley, go take a breather in the back. As for the rest of you, leave."
Ready to accept defeat, I catch a glimpse of Hartley smirking as she scurries back into the back like some "damsel in distress". Yup, that did it.
"She insulted me first!" I blurted, desperate to shift the blame. "She said I had a 3-inch dick!" A few patrons erupted in laughter, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Even the manager's lips curled up for a brief moment before switching to that of a more serious expression.
"I'm not sure what your relationship is with Miss Hartley, and it's certainly not my place to say, but bullying and name calling is never okay," the manager scolded. "You need to grow up."
Again, are you kidding me? I'm not bullying her. She started it. But before I could retort, Ryan Josh, began shepherding me out like a disgraced athlete being benched for unsportsmanlike conduct.
"Let's go before you embarrass yourself even further," Josh urged.
"Lying piece of shit," I grumbled, trying to shake off their grasp, "This ain't over, Hartley!" I hollered back at the diner, dragging my feet, "You're going to regret this."
"I'm not getting banned from the only diner in town because you can't handle being called out by your girlfriend," Ryan quipped, shoving me toward the exit.
"She's not my girlfriend!" I snapped back, but the truth laid somewhere between anger and an embarrassing flicker of something else.
Outside, Josh's voice reached my ears: "Whatever you say, lover boy!"
That was it. As soon as I stepped foot outside the diner, I was going to beeline for Josh and beat the crap out of him.
******
"I'm starving," Josh groaned as he sat on his bike, slipping on his gloves. I yanked the helmet out of his grasp, sending him into a fit of laughter. "Dude, I was just messing around! You sounded like a psycho ex-boyfriend."
Erik and Ryan burst out laughing. Both of them quickly put on their helmet to hide their amusement. Some friends they were.
Erik and Ryan erupted with laughter, putting on their helmets to muffle their amusement. "I called it," Ryan chuckled as he sat on his bike. "He likes her."
"Hadé and Hartley, sitting in a tree," Josh chimed, his grin teasing. "Chemistry like that makes good make-up sex. You know I wouldn't be surprised if she was into real kinky shit."
"Like what? She seems like an average gal to me," Erik replied, still chuckling.
Josh winked at me, "Threesomes or maybe she gets off in front of a crowd. Oh boy, you're gonna have your hands full."
I shot them a death glare but it only fueled their laughter. "Are you asking for a black eye today of all days?" I sneered, feeling my temper rise.
"You don't want to beat up your best friend," Josh waved dismissively. "Now come on, hand over my helmet."
I pushed it into his chest, ready to throw a punch. "We can go to my house," Erik suggested, trying to change the subject. "It's nacho night."
Their chatter faded as I noticed a motorcycle parked nearby. My heart raced. Neon pink, just like the one I had seen before. No way.
"Hey, you coming?" Josh called, still oblivious, "Please, no more drama tonight."
Ignoring him, I bounded toward the mystery bike. "Guys, it's that biker chick!" I shouted, pointing. The lads shut off their engines and joined me, intrigued.
"What are you planning on doing? You can't go back into the diner," Ryan reminded me of my earlier outburst.
"Wait. She's bound to show up."
"I'm not waiting for some mysterious biker chick," Josh groaned and turned back.
"Me neither," Erik added.
"What about you?" I asked Ryan, desperation edging my voice.
"Sure, why the hell not? I'm a little curious anyway,"