Riding The Flames

01 | Meeting

one • meeting

Daria

I know the guy is trouble at first glance.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I judge people by their clothes. I judge them by their actions. Just like I am doing with this guy.

When you live in a town like Baycreek, you need to learn to protect yourself. The first lesson—stay miles away from the notorious motorcycle gangs.

This place is an illusion—a peaceful illusion of a small town on the Southside of Montreal. It is a cheery place usually, known for its bookstores, dark roads, lack of government-funded buildings, and the infamous gangs who threaten every corner you have your eyes on.

If you were like me, you would stay the hell out of their way. But if you are like my best friend, Simon Somani, you would do the opposite.

Opposite like getting beaten up by them just outside of campus. Opposite like having one of them threaten you right in front of your bestie's eyes.

Not a scene you want to be greeted with after just stepping out of grumpy Professor Wilkins' class.

"Hey!"

My shout makes the guy who is holding Simon by his jacket pull his attention from him to me. He has his sunglasses on but one can still make out the look of curiosity that must have caught on.

It's a handsome face. Notoriously sharp edges, a straight nose, full lips, and a head of thick dark brown hair which turn a shade lighter when the sunlight hits the strands. He is wearing a leather jacket, with several pockets, and black jeans with a chain for a belt. The letters 'RG' are imprinted in red to the left side of his jacket, a clear sign that he belongs to one of the motorcycle clubs in town.

They are outside the gates of Baycreek Institution, in a part of the campus that doesn't come under the Institute's radar. More than ten people are surrounding Simon, all dressed in the same jacket as the Sunglass guy. Even students from campus are watching them with focused interest.

As I walk towards the perpetrator, I see him tilt his head down a little to bare his eyes on my frame. He watches me with a steady gaze when I stop in front of him. He is tall, probably over 6'2 to my 5'6; his shadow falls over me, hiding the sun behind him.

"Leave him alone," I say to the guy while I place my hand over his on Simon's jacket. "Whatever he said he didn't mean it."

I try to pry off the guy's hand from Simon's clothes but his icy cold grip is strong. When one hand doesn't work, I try to use my other hand too but to no avail. Simon's lips have a small cut that's oozing blood and his fair face has a black eye. He looks at me in a hopeful manner, silently begging me to do something.

"What do you think he said, pretty face?" Sunglass guy asks, voice deep and filled with huskiness.

He loosens his grip only ever so slightly as he leans on his motorbike with a smirk on. His friends follow his actions like minions, watching the scene before them like an audience in a theater. I look at Sunglass guy with narrowed eyes, letting go of his hand and crossing my arms over my chest.

"Probably a truth which hurt your ego."

"And what might that have been?"

"That you compensate for your small dick by showing your toxic masculinity?"

Sunglass guy laughs, throwing his head back, and then lets go of my bestie.

Simon stumbles back hard, colliding with me. I wrap my arm around his waist while bending to pick up his discarded bag from the ground. As I reach for the strap, Sunglass guy reaches for it too and he is faster than me.