HARTLEYNever in a million years would I have thought that Hadé Delgado the biker bad boy would be found hiding in a car park, crying. It was a full moon tonight, so the crazy was out, including Neon Girl, my colourful alter ego who thrived on late-night escapades."You look like you've seen better days," I said as I pulled up next to Hadé, who was leaning against his bike, face streaked with tears. The scene felt surreal, like a misplaced still from a movie.He cleared his throat, attempting to mask the pain, and replied, "You're telling me," while hastily wiping his face.I dismounted my bike and stepped toward him. "Quit the nacho act," I said, shaking my head."Nacho?" he asked with a quirky frown, momentarily distracted, his lips curving into a small laugh."I meant macho," I corrected, a warmth enveloping me at the sight of his smile, even as it flickered away just as quickly."So, what's with the tears?" I probed. "I thought you'd be out there conquering the world with that cocky self of yours.""Shut up," he snapped, but the hint of sadness lingered in his tone.I could have shot back with an insult, but this was Hadé, still human and even he, could have a shitty day. "Too far?" I asked gently, sensing his vulnerability. "Just making an observation."He exhaled deeply as if letting go of a weight too heavy to carry. "I lost my club.""Sorry to hear that," I sympathized, the last thing I ever wanted was for the club to suffer. "It's my fault," he admitted, curling his fingers into tight fists. "I was a prick to this girl. I let my guys be assholes too.""Did you apologise to her?" I asked, treading carefully, wary of the sting in his pride."No," he murmured, eyes downcast. "Instead, I harassed her like a stupid moron. She just gets under my skin. Always calling me out on every mistake.""Isn't that a good thing?" I countered. "Don't you need someone to keep you in check? Tell me—does it really make you feel good to hurt women?""No," he replied, almost a whisper."Then why do you do it?""I don't know," he confessed, and I could hear the regret in his voice."Promised you won't laugh?" he asked suddenly, lifting his gaze to meet mine."I cross my heart and hope to die," I declared, a grin crossing my lips, which only earned a raised brow from him."What are you, 12?" he chuckled, but the levity dissolved as he continued, voice brimming with raw emotion."There was this girl in school. Victoria. I had a crush on her. When I finally mustered the guts to ask her out, she embarrassed me. Badly.""Okay, you got rejected. Who cares? Plenty of fish in the sea," I said, shrugging it off."You gonna let me finish?" He looked exasperated but continued. "She started picking on me afterwards, making jokes about my bike. When I got my license and joined a motorcycle club, she mocked me, even encouraging me to 'go kill myself'."I felt the anger seep into my veins. "That's terrible.""And then one day, a member of the club overheard her picking on me. He made fun of her. I enjoyed seeing her suffer for a moment. I remember her running away in tears; she never bothered me again." His eyes reflected a mixture of defiance and shame."And you thought, whenever someone called you out, it felt like Victoria, didn't you?" I said softly, realizing his pattern."The bullied becomes the bully," he admitted, shame washing over him."Yeah... I just don't want to be picked on anymore," he confessed, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. "That's why I came to this college, to get away from all the drama and start fresh. Be the cool guy. That's why this club means so much to me. We have each other's backs."His gaze dropped, and I could see the embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. "I know it's no excuse for my behavior, but it's like..." He hesitated, searching for the right words, "second nature to protect myself.""And the girls would have your back if you weren't mean to them," I replied gently, shaking my head at his defensiveness. It was a classic tale: the bad boy hiding behind a façade, all too familiar and strangely endearing.He bit his lip, a flicker of regret dancing in his eyes. "You know I'm right.""Even if I wanted to apologize to Hartley, she won't listen. Instead, she calls me 'slimedog.'" His hands waved in frustration, the term rolling off his tongue with a mix of disdain and laughter. "How can that insult be so rude and cute at the same time? I can't take her seriously when she calls me that."I raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. "Just because this Vicky girl was an asshole doesn't mean you have to be. Two wrongs don't make a right."Hadé fell silent, staring off into the distance as if he were weighing my words. "I do owe Hartley an apology, but I don't think she would forgive me. She hates me.""Then you'll never know if you don't try," I encouraged, stepping closer.He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit I had come to recognise. "I don't know what to do. I'm nothing without this club.""Motorcycles are just an extension of who you are. Aside from the bullying, do you actually feel good for raising the money?" I asked, genuinely curious."A little," he admitted, and I couldn't help but grin."Wow, Hadé has a soul. You should be proud of yourself." I gave him a playful pat on the back, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just a bit."Up you get." I reached out a hand, and he took it, letting me pull him up until he stood beside me."I don't think you're a bad guy, Hadé," I said, meeting his serious gaze. "But you need to start making better choices, especially towards women.""A little hard when that's all I've been taught as a kid," he replied, bitterness dripping from his words."Well, your parents are wrong. Start treating women with respect. Can you do that, please?""I can try.""No, it's not 'I'll try.'" I corrected him firmly. "It's 'yes, I will.' I'd prefer to be friends with Nacho than macho."He chuckled, shaking his head as though trying to process everything. "You're an idiot.""Feel better?"He smiled wider now, a break in the storm clouds hovering above. "Yeah. I do. Thanks.""Anytime. I'll see you around." I replied walking back to my bike."Wait, you're not staying?" he asked, his voice laced with surprise."Nah, I've already checked out the fundraiser," I said, shrugging him off.But as I started to walk away, I felt a gentle tug, a shift where I resisted the urge to turn back. His persistence suddenly felt like a weight I wasn't sure I wanted to carry."Stay," he urged, following closely. "Hang out with me just for a little bit."A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. There was a charm in his genuine invitation that even I, the object of his misguided comments, couldn't resist."I'll see you later, Hadé," I said, hopping onto my bike. I sighed and kept going, fully expecting him to drop it, but there he was, trailing behind me like a guilt-ridden puppy. "I'm sorry!" he called out.I looked back, arms crossed, seeing him stand there with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shuffling his feet like a schoolboy in trouble. He blurted out, "For what I said. The comments," he clarified, teeth gnawing at his lower lip.I couldn't resist teasing him any longer. "What kind of comments?"He raised his gaze to meet mine, and there was a spark of defiance mixed with vulnerability. "You really going to make me say it?""I am, actually," I replied, crossing my arms, a deliberate challenge. "Both of us need to understand what you're apologising for."His tongue slipped out to moisten his lips nervously. "Telling you to sell your bike to a 'real man,'" he mimicked, making little air quotes that only made me roll my eyes."And?"He exhaled, closing his eyes as if wishing the earth would swallow him whole. "That the track was no place for a woman," he muttered, his voice dropping.I pressed on. "And?""You just calling me out on everything, I swear you and Hartley would get along like the best of friends," he replied shaking his head, the corner of his lips curling up just a tad. That's because we are the same.Everything else—sticking to your lane and every other sexist comment I've made." He paused, his shoulders slumping. "I was wrong. You were right.""That's not the point," I said firmly. "This isn't about whether I'm right or wrong. This is about your behaviour. Do better, Hadé."