Bad For Me

HUGO dropped me at the house around one am, so I was shocked to find my Dad sitting in the living room, casually watching TV.

"Dad?" I asked, taking in his expression when he noticed me. It was one of annoyance yet concern. "Why are you still up?"

"Why am I still up? I was waiting for my daughter who decided to stay into the early hours of the morning, doing God knows what, without letting anyone know!"

My eyebrows furrowed. "Valentina and Hugo knew where I was." Mum couldn't care less, as her sewing machine had her attention for the evening.

"Are they your parents?" He snapped, coming to stand in front of me and taking in my outfit. "And what the hell are you wearing?"

"It was a pool party, Dad."

"A party? On a school night? Weyi āmilakē."

I stood before him, flabbergasted. Where was this interrogation coming from? And why was he so angry? I didn't stand him up.

"It's Friday, Dad."

"And? Is that an excuse for you to slack off, hm? Friday is still a school day, and instead of you to treat it like such you're partying, drinking-"

"I don't drink alcohol, you know that!"

"-How would I know when you're barely at home? Always with that boyfriend of yours, or elsewhere-"

"I'm barely at home?" I let out a loud, shaky laugh. "You just came back from a three month long trip, Dad! Even in your first week back in London you chose to stay in the office, standing up your daughter who you haven't seen in ages!"

My father let out a deep sigh, his hand on his hip. "Fallon, let's not have this argument again. You already know, everything I do, how hard I work, is for you. You are my only daughter, I have to keep your future in mind."

"But what about the present? As everyday goes by I see you less and less. It's like...." I stopped myself before I finished my sentence, knowing he wouldn't take my words lightly.

It's like you're a stranger in your home.

"It's like what?" This man stood before me, someone I'd regarded as my hero ever since birth. Someone who was the source of my inspiration and my driving force to do well. While I wanted to work hard to gain my mothers approval, I already knew I had his. But he was never around to show it.

"It's like you don't care.." I whispered, watching his dark brown that I'd inherited widen. Whether in shock or anger, I wouldn't know.

He was silent for a moment before shaking his head and dragging a hand down his tired face. "Go to your room, Fallon. It's late."

So that was it? We were finally at the point of having a real conversation, only for him to brush it off? I shook my head, grabbing my handbag off the floor and ascending the stairs.

"See you in the morning," I mumbled to myself, too quiet for him to hear. "Oh wait. You'll probably be at work."

The light in the Design Room was switched off as I walked by, meaning my mum had actually gone to sleep. She wasn't worried about me staying out late, but then again, I wouldn't expect her to be. The parent I wanted to be concerned about me, was not. The parent I wanted to be around more, did the opposite.

I dropped myself onto my bed with a loud sigh, staring at the ceiling. The girl I wanted to care less, cared too much. And caring too much never brought any good.

The following Monday was a fresh start for me, and I was determined to make the most out of the new week. Starting with my appearance, I meticulously straightened my hair until it flowed down my back like a dark wave, applied the usual minimal makeup and accessories with Luca's necklace and a matching pair of silver earrings.

Like clockwork, Luca's car was outside when I left the house around eight AM. It was silent as expected, with Mum in Liverpool for some business and Dad at the office. It shouldn't have bothered me, but I couldn't help but remember the breakfast we used to have as a family. Back before everything changed, it was a tradition that we ate together at least once a day. Now I got lucky if I even saw them once a day.

I kept the conversation light with Luca as we drove to school. We'd arrived earlier than usual as he had a meeting with his football team, and I simply wanted to get out of the house. He ran ahead so I took my time walking through the parking lot, when something caught my attention.

Rushing closer to the source, I prayed my eyes weren't deceiving me. "Is this a Bender Inferno 2001?" I whispered to myself, gazing at the lovely motorbike before me.

I set my handbag on the gravel and crouched to get a closer look at the wheels. Perfect condition? Not even a scratch? How?

If I had that bike, and I knew how to drive it, I'd be on the road forever.

"I wonder if the engine actually purrs like they say..." I moved closer, avoiding touching the bike when a deep voice scared me.

"Should I leave you two alone?"

Before acknowledging the person who'd scared the nails of my fingers, I checked if my heart was still beating after that immense startle. It was.

I turned around, my shoulders pulled back and an apologetic look on my face when I stopped short.

Why did I stop short? One of the most attractive guys I'd ever seen in my life was eyeing me with a weirded out, amused look.

He stood tall, at least a head taller than me with olive skin, broad shoulders and a toned physique that was visible under the school uniform. His hair was a dark mess of curls, and I was close enough to see a few scars littered across his knuckles. And he had a pretty face, thick eyebrows, strong jaw, all that pizazz. But what made me wary was the smirk across his lips and the look in his dark, green eyes.

It spelled trouble.

I made a show of looking at the motorcycle as if I wasn't aware it was there. "That won't be necessary, thank you though."

He raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer. I fought the urge to take one back. There was something about him that I couldn't place, but it warned me to keep my distance. "You sure? I can give you some privacy if you want. I think you were about to find out if the bike 'purred' or not."

My eyes narrowed and I clicked my tongue. "I said no such thing."

"Sure."

"Why do you even care- wait. Are you the owner?" I gasped and he shook his head sarcastically.

"No, I'm next in line to flirt with the motorcycle, so speed things up, yeah?"

My mouth dropped open and I looked around to see if anyone overheard. "I was not flirting with it!" My voice came out in a harsh whisper. "Although it does deserve many compliments."

I watched him watch me with that infuriating smirk on his ridiculously nice face. "You were practically drooling over it. You still are."

"How could I not?" I turned my attention back to the wonder. "It's my dream bike. The most gorgeous one I've ever seen."

There was no response, but I was too busy admiring the handles to notice. So shiny...

A cleared throat brought me out of the haze. The stranger was still there, his expression even more amused. "If I come here after school and see the bike missing, you'll be my number one suspect."

"I'd check in at lunch if I was you." I said with a small smile, before breezing by him towards the school entrance.

A few footsteps and he already caught up with me. "So, you're into bikes?"

I looked to my right and up at the guy. This close, I could make out a faint dimple on his left cheek. Hot.

Fallon! Keep your thoughts appropriate.

Forcing myself to pay attention to the question and not his face was hard, but not impossible. "You could say that."

"Intriguing." The smirk was back. I wanted to pinch it off his face, and I didn't know why.

"Indeed. Are you new?"

He shot me a look I couldn't interpret. "Yeah. How do you know?"

I gave him a quick once-over. "Main reason is because I haven't seen you before," I answered. "And you're wearing your uniform wrong."

He glanced down at the said uniform. There weren't any major errors, just his white button down shirt was untucked, tie askew and he wore incorrect shoes. On any other guy it would seem as if he was trying to look cool, but on him... it simply looked cool/ it actually did.

"Uniform police and a motorbike fanatic? Anything else I should know about you?" Something about his playful tone caused an odd feeling in my stomach.

"My name might be helpful," I offered, just as we entered the school. "I'm Fallon. You?"

He regarded me with those green eyes for a moment. "Why should I tell you?"

I gave him a weird look. "I'm going to find out eventually, we're heading to the reception now to get your timetable and I'll walk you to class."

"Are you part of the welcome committee or something?"

"Or something." I regarded him once more and that odd feeling in my stomach increased as well as a sense of familiarity. DId I know him from somewhere? His voice...

He raised his eyebrows at me as I stared at him. "What?"

Then it clicked. "Wait, did you happen to crash a Harley Davison someplace near a park last week? On purpose?"

Surprise filtered across his features. "Uh, yeah. How do you... Wait!"

We both pointed at each other simultaneously, mirroring that SM theme. "You're Motorcycle Girl!" He exclaimed and I immediately lost my excitement.

"Um, no. Sorry, but you can't call me that because I've named you Motorcycle Guy. It's too similar."

He crossed his arms, drawing attention to the defined muscles under his blazer sleeves. "I said it first."

I copied his pose, leaning against the lockers behind me. "Well, it makes no sense. You're the one who actually drives motorbikes."

"And you're the one who's obsessed with them. I thought you were going to collapse when you saw the bike I'd crashed."

I raised a finger. "Which you also stole."

He chuckled slightly and leaned in close enough to make my breath hitch. That dimple made an appearance as he spoke. "Watch your words, MG."

I hated how my heart fluttered at his proximity. My body was reacting to him in a way I didn't understand, and that scared me. Keeping my cool, I asked, "MG?"

Motorcycle Guy slung his backpack over his shoulder with all the ease in the world and took a few steps back, but his gaze was focused on me. "Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what it stands for."

"Yeah, Mega Genius." I called out to him with a smile, not noticing the curious looks our fellow schoolmates were giving us.

He shook his head, still walking backwards. "You couldn't be further from the answer, Fally."

Horror was displayed on my face by the atrocious nickname. "It's Fallon!" I practically shouted over the chatter of students. "And you still didn't tell me yours?"

He gave me one last smirk before disappearing into the crowd, leaving me disoriented at a random locker with the strange feeling still in my stomach.

Later that day, as I thought of our conversation, I identified the feeling to be butterflies.

What are we thinking about Motorcycle Guy? :)