Biker Boots

I shuffled away from the taller boy in an attempt to keep a suitable distance between us.

"What's wrong, princess? Are you scared?" Even his voice sounded menacing and dripped with false saccharine.

"N-no," I stutter out, stumbling over a random trash can thrown carelessly down the alleyway.

He vaults himself forward to catch me.

"Get off of me!" I shake myself from his grip and try to walk away.

He whips me back around to face him and pushes me up against the wall roughly. "Don't ever walk away from me, princess. I can't control myself when I get angry, and you never want to see that." His lips ghost across my ear and his warm breath smelled of whiskey, warming my insides.

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3. Follow You

What could he possibly want to know? 


“I might have an answer.” I say to him, catching his gaze.


Michael sets down his drink on my chipped coffee table, and turns back to face me. His eyes focus on mine and I find myself lost in them once again. His beautiful evergreen irises remind me of the limbs of the trees I once climbed as a child. The branches swirling together, forming a sphere of emerald ecstasy that I will never get enough of. I look into his eyes and I see everything about him. Every emotion, every slight twitch, every blink. They suddenly hold confusion, and I have to yank myself away from his stare.


“Did you hear me?” he asks me.


“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I spaced off a little bit.” I slightly shake my head to clear my thoughts.


“I asked if you had anyone to stay with you tonight? Like I have a weird feeling that you ain’t safe and you probably shouldn’t be alone.” Michael picks up his can and leans back into my fraying, yet comfortable couch. 


I think about his question for a moment. Do I have anyone to stay with me tonight? I have Eb, but even he offers only so much protection. My family lives two hours away, so they’re not much help either. What about my friends? I think about my handful of friends, and none of them are close enough to me for me to ask them to do this for me. I have several somewhat-friends, but none that have ever seen my house, nor stayed the night.


“I honestly have no one that could come over. Wouldn’t Eb be enough protection?” I ask him, fiddling nervously with my grey finger nail polish. Michael shifts closer to the edge of the cushion he’s sat upon. 


“Seriously? No one?” he looks confused.


“No one. I guess you could say that I’m a lone wolf?” I chuckle nervously. 


Michael’s slightly drops his stony facial expression, and cracks a half-hearted smile. “I guess we are two of the same. But you aren’t staying by yourself tonight.” He gets up and walks over to my window, peeking through the blinds.


“Well, why can’t I?” I ask him, standing, and peering through my window as well.


“Maybe because of that?” He points to a large black van that keeps driving by the front of the apartment building. He walks away from the window, pulling me back with him.


“Who is heck is that?” I exclaim, pulling down my sleeves. Sure, I lived in the ghetto, but things like this rarely happened.


“I don’t really know, but they don’t look like good news. I’m not totally sure that they’re after you, either, but I’m not sure that I really want to take that chance. So you’re coming with me.” He simply states, walking throughout my tiny apartment opening doors.


“Whoa buddy. Who says that I’m coming with you?” I follow him around, closing the doors he leaves open.


“I just did. Now pick some clothes out for a few days, I’m not sure how long you’ll be gone. What does Eb need?” Michael finds my junk closet and throws a large backpack at me. I catch it just before it hits my face.


“A few days? Are you being serious?”


“Deadly. Now pack.” he demands, folding Eb’s blanket up, and shoving it into another bag he found, along with some of Eb’s toys and his bowls.


“Oh yeah, okay. Should I just pack my entire closet while I’m at it?” I ask him sarcastically.


“Might as well. If they are after you, they might ransack your apartment.” He zips up Eb’s bag, and puts it on his bag. “Are you packed yet?”


“No I’m not packed! And I’m not going to pack because I’m not going anywhere! You’re crazy!” I state, throwing the backpack onto the ground in front of Michael. 


Michael sighs. “I’m taking Eb to my house now, because the three of us won’t fit on the bike together. If you’re not packed by the time I get back, I’m packing for you.” He clips Eb’s leash onto his spiked collar and walks out the door without another word, not leaving any room for me to speak.


I stand there for a moment, before realizing what just happened. A boy I just met a half hour ago just ran off with my dog.


Well, if I’m ever to see my dog again, I better pack. 


Running around my apartment I start throwing random shirts into the bag, stuffing them into the bottom of the bag. I grab three good pairs of my skinny jeans; one black, one grey, and one blue. I throw in my hair brush, my toothbrush, and my face washes before I hear my door open. I freeze, listening for a voice. Soon, I hear someone open my fridge. 


“Wow, this chick has some good shit.” That voice is not Michael’s.
I quickly throw my bag under my bed, and tuck myself in next to it, making sure I was out of sight. I cover my mouth to quiet my breathing and a hushed tear makes its way down my cheek. My bedroom door opens and I see a pair of tattered Sketchers appear in front of me, topped with fraying blue jeans. I stop breathing and my heart skips a beat.


“Wonder where the bitch is? Jimmy said she walked into this here building. She’s gots to live in this dump.” His voice is layered with a thick New York accent, and sounded like nails on a chalk board.


He wanders around my room for a few minutes, before he finally walks out, closing the door behind him. I still don’t move even when I hear the front door close. I stay in my place waiting for Michael to come back, hoping that he does.


I stay in my spot for nearly a half hour before I hear my door open. I hear heavy footfalls throughout my apartment, and see the shadow of someone’s feet through the small crack at the bottom of my bedroom door between it and the floor. All is silent for a few seconds before the door bursts open and a pair of leather combat boots fill my vision. I sigh in relief at the sight. 


“Maeve where are you?” he calls out, walking to the side of my bed.


“I’m under here,” I respond, my voice cracks throughout my sentence.I wiggle around, shoving my bag out from underneath the bed. 


“What the hell? Why are you underneath the bed?” Michael gets on his knees, and shoves the bag out of the way. He offers me a hand, but I shove it out of the way. I basically throw myself at him, forcing him into a hug. “Whoa, are you okay?” he carefully hugs me back, smoothing my hair out of his face.


“I was so scared.” I whisper, clinging onto him tighter than I had before.


“Of what? What happened?” he pulls me away so he can look at me properly.


“There was someone in here awhile ago. He mentioned something about a guy named Jimmy, and was looking for me I think. I heard him open my door, so I threw myself under the bed and hid until you came back. God, I was terrified Michael.” I relay to him, several more tears tracking down my face. 


Michael looks confused for a moment, but soon pulls me into another hug. “I’m not sure who that is, but we’ll figure this out. Now c’mon, Eb is waiting for you at my place. Grab anything that you think you can’t live without. You have 5 minutes. I’ll watch the door.” 


I nod, and pull away from him, going to my drawers. I pull out several pairs of underwear and a few bras, stuffing them into my bag. I grab my makeup bag and throw that in too. Socks and deodorant go in the bag too. I can’t think of anything else I’m forgetting, so I run to my fridge. I throw in my bottle of whiskey. Walking around my small living room I throw in several family pictures, and the keys to my house. I grab the blanket my grandmother made for me, and my stuffed giraffe, Phillip. Walking up to Michael I zip up the bag and sling it onto my back.


“Ready?” He asks me, and I nod, locking the door behind us. Michael grabs my hand and we run down the stairs and to the parking lot outside. Michael jumps onto his bike and clasps on his helmet whilst I grab the one I had earlier. 


He kicks the starter and the engine roars to life. I can feel the vibrations on my thighs and I cling onto Michael for the third time that night, ready to follow him to wherever he would take me.

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