Bikes & Blood

𝐗𝐈𝐈.

"Call me in the morning, yeah
I'm sorry that I let you down."
-Place In Me, Luke Hemmings.

Firelight danced across the sand, flickering as the breeze blew across the open space beside the sea. The smell of burning wood and sea salt filled the night air, waves crashing leisurely upon the shoreline. A rock song blasted from a chipped and weathered stereo, twinning together with the snapping and popping of the fire. A group of Surf Nazis sat around the blazing bonfire, drinking beer or passing a joint back and forth amongst themselves, the group laughing loudly at some joke the other had told.

The Surf Nazi's girlfriends perched upon their laps or the vacant spot beside their respective partners, fawning over their boyfriends as though they were some well-known celebrities. David, Dwayne, Marko, Paul and Amara sat on sun-bleached logs at the edge of the cleared space-the firelight skittering across the sand to cast shadows on the trees behind them.

Marko, Paul and Amara joked amongst themselves; the chaotic blondes passing a bottle of vodka back and forth amongst themselves. An ear-splitting grin grew across Paul's face as he extended the bottle towards Amara, eyebrow arched as he waited for Amara's decision. Dagger-like earring swinging from his ear as Amara took the bottle from his hand and passed it straight to Marko without much of a thought.

The pair of blondes snickered as they noticed the way her lip had curled with disdain, eyes narrowing as though it'd scold the alcohol for leaving her with a faint headache. Decked out entirely in black, from her black plaid pants to her black cropped t-shirt and boots, Amara's eyes appeared darker in the flickering light from the blazing bonfire. Her jacket left forgotten on the log beside her as she laughed and joked with the two playful blondes on either side of her.

Marko's Cheshire-like grin crept firmly into place as he nudged Amara with his elbow, offering her the bottle of vodka with a knowing glint to his hazel eyes. "Are sure you don't want any? Cause by the time Paul's done with it, there won't be any left."

Paul reached around Amara and shoved his friend's shoulder, scoffing as the sandy-haired blonde toppled off the log and into the sand with a solid thump. Marko groaned as he huffed out a stunned breath of air, groggily passing the bottle of vodka to Dwayne-who watched Marko push himself up from the sand with a smirk across his face. Paul and Amara shared a look as Marko stood from the sand and dusted the sand from his jeans, cropped shirt, and patchwork jacket.

Amara shook her head with disbelief, to which Paul merely chuckled at. "What? He likes the sand anyway." He defended.

Amara peered up at him doubtfully, brows creased as she turned her head back towards the sand-covered blonde. "I doubt that." She mused as Marko continued to pat at his clothes.

Marko muttered a multitude of curse words beneath his breath as he tried to brush the sand from his clothes, shaking his head with annoyance when it became apparent that it wasn't helping in the slightest. Paul snickered beside Amara. Marko's gaze ever-so-slowly lifting from his clothes and onto the snickering blonde. Amara swallowed, glancing towards Paul before inching closer to the ebony-haired biker and away from the blonde within Marko's sight.

"You're so dead," Amara mumbled loud enough for Paul to hear.

Paul turned to her with a pleased smirk on his face. "What's the matter? Scared that I hurt Marko's feelings?"

Amara's gaze flickered to the blonde in question, his hazel-eyed stare locked solely upon Paul as he crept closer. Amara turned her attention back to Paul, grinning from ear to ear as Marko crept closer. Dwayne swallowed a mouthful of vodka, his deep chuckle filling Amara's ears as Marko tackled Paul to the sand.