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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1. My Heroine

 

It was a cool November evening when I first met him. He was tall, so tall that I had to crank my head back to see his eyes. His eyes were the most beautiful thing about him. His eyes held so many secrets, yet refused to reveal any of them. They were a glorious emerald, so green they could put a thousand forests in full bloom to shame. I could spend hours staring into them, weaving myself through the evergreen trees that made up his irises. 

He had this crazy hair as well. He claims he had dyed it so many times that there was a slim chance that it would ever be thick and healthy again. So instead of soaking colorful dyes into it every three weeks, he stuck to bleaching it a platinum blonde, often letting his dark roots grow out a centimeter or two. Because his hair was so damaged and dead, it rarely lay flat. The tufts would stick up at odd angles in the mornings, until he styled them into a shape that vaguely resembled a fringe. The hairs themselves were rough to the touch, due to so many split and dry ends. 

His style was an entirely different thing than I’ve ever seen with my own eyes. He looked like the type of guy that listened to heavy metal and punched kittens in the face. His favorite black leather jacket was a common thing to see him in. He constantly wore some thick cotton band tee that was slightly too large for his skinny frame. Painted on, black skinny jeans always complimented the shirt, revealing his muscled calves, tucking into the same pair of shoes he always wore. His heavy biker boots were on his feet at all times. I’d never see him with any other shoes on. When I asked him about them, he always gave me the same answer; “They give me strength.” How a pair of shoes can give someone strength is beyond me. They’re shoes, not a magical power upgrade.However I never questioned beyond the first. If that’s how he felt about them, then who was I to judge?

When I first met him, the environment we were in made me automatically fear him. After all, I’m a small city girl with a 4.0 GPA and two strict parents that rarely let me go anywhere without a heavy lecture on safety and a extra-large bottle of pepper spray.

I was in a dark alley, running from unseen things that my imagination most likely conjured up to scare me. I looked ahead of me and saw the streetlight, and I sighed in relief as I quickened my pace to reach the checkpoint faster. I did my best to ignore the shadows glued to the crumbling brick walls around me, seeing my mental state would conclude they were all monsters coming after a little girl like myself. But just as I turned my face away from the wall to my right, someone reached out towards me, missing me by centimeters. I was moving too quickly to see this motion and so I continued on, unaware of what was ahead of me.

I was several feet away from the streetlight, just outside of the soft glow of light before I was approached by someone on my left side. The man was very thin, and reeked of body odor and vodka. “Well what are you doing out here, miss? It’s awful late for a beauty like yourself to wandering in a dark alley like this.” his throat sounded raw, and his voice was scratchy like he’d been yelling recently.

“I’m on my way home, my family is expecting me.” I replied, trying to walk faster. I had no family at home, I lived on my own in an apartment that I rented, but this man didn’t know that.

He slowly saunters towards my quaking body. “Well I’m sure they can wait.”

“I’m not sure that they can.” I shuffled away from the man 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, sending alarms throughout my entire being.

Suddenly the man is ripped off of me. I open my eyes and see an even taller figure pushing the man down the alleyway, away from me. My assailant attempts to put up a fight, but the taller man is seemingly much stronger. I stay frozen in my spot, unable to manipulate my limbs to work. With one last hit, my hero forces my violator into another alleyway.  He stands and watches the drunk walk away for a moment, before turning back to me. He slowly walks towards me, before standing in front of me. 

“Are you alright?” I’m not sure if it’s because this man just saved me, but his voice was so relieving to hear, and slightly attractive. 

“Yes, I’m fine. I could have handled that myself yaknow.” I try to cling to my last shred of pride.

The boy snorts. “Yeah, looks like you really had it handled back there.” 

“I did! I can handle myself…”

“Whatever. Next time I’ll try not to save you.” He stoops his posture to look me in the eye. “Are you sure you’re fine? You look a bit shook up.” His eyes were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I could get lost in them, and I guess I did momentarily. 

‘Uh, yeah, I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” I stammer out, averting my gaze from his.
“Bullshit,” he scoffs, “I’m walking you home.” his tone didn’t that indicate any arguing was allowed, so I dare not even try. Since he was standing in front of me, I finally got a good look at him. He had his ears and right eyebrow pierced. He had two small hand tattoos; a roman numeral X on his right middle finger, and a small anchor on his left thumb. I’m sure he had more, but that’s all that was visible. He wore a heavy black jacket that looked to be real leather. I had the urge to reach my hand out to touch it to see if I was correct.  Underneath he wore a baggy black shirt that read “METALLICA” in big slanted letters. He was wearing  pair of painted on dark jeans tucked messily into a big chunky pair of combat boots. Overall, his appearance intimidated me intensely. 

“Uh hello? Is anyone home?” He waved a short-fingered hand in front of my face.

I shook myself out of my state of trance. “Uhm yes, what is it?”

He gave me an “are you for real?” look. “We have to go to your house? Your family is waiting for you?”

I face palmed mentally. Of course I spaced off. “Ah yeah, about that… I don’t really have to get home. I live on my own.” I told him.

“Oh. Well I’m still going to walk you home.”

He didn’t seem to want to give up. “Well that’s fine, I guess. I live this way.” I began to walk towards the streetlight. He snags my wrist.

“We aren’t walking, and I’m not leaving my bike.” He drops my wrist and motions for me to follow him. The boy leads me back down the alley, looking back every now and then to make sure I’m following him. He leads me to a dark corner, where he shuffles through his pockets for something. “Where are the damn things..?” he mumbles to himself. Seemingly, he finds what he’s looking for, and a light suddenly flashes on.

He throws a leg over what seems to be a motorcycle and puts on a helmet that was hanging on the handlebars. Reaching behind him, he pulls out another from the bag on the back. “Coming?” he hands the spare to me.

I shouldn’t get on the motorcycle with a boy I just met. 

I shove the helmet over my hair, and climb on the back behind him.

“Hold on tight, I don’t drive slow.” He throws his foot down, and the engine roars to life underneath us. I wrap my arms around his midsection, feeling his stomach muscles clench as he lifts his feet of the cracked cement.

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