Young But Real (5 YA Short Stories)

The Chase and Confrontation

I am on the way home when I see Mikayla, wearing a long-sleeved white flowy dress, and walking unusually slow in the opposite direction. I step on the back brake of my scooter, followed by the front brake for a complete stop.

Shit!

I'm a goner to imagine that she is walking toward me in her wedding dress. I blink several times to dismiss my unreal but welcomed thoughts.

"An—" She continues walking as if she doesn't see me. "What the hell?!"  I say in an almost inaudible voice, but she stops and turns around.

"Jarrod?"

She says my name. Fuck! The last time she did, was when we slept together. I can't help but smile. "Where are you going, Angel?"

"Mr. Kosher Cafe," she says like she's talking to her best friend. I'll be damned if I don't seize this moment.

"Can I go with you?"

"Only if you are paying."

My eyes are widening in yet another surprise. "Did you just agree?"

"Agreed. I changed my mind." She starts walking like a turtle.

I kick my scooter and stop beside her. "Hop on."

I am astounded when she turns so I quickly get the extra helmet from my backpack.

"I see. You're more prepared than last time," she smiles and lifts her hand in an attempt to get the helmet from me.

"Let me." I placed the helmet on her head. "I've learned from last time and you can't fault a guy for hoping that it might happen again," I chuckle heartily but stop when I catch her eyes, staring intently or scrutinising, I can't figure which is which.

My hand instantly reaches for her face but before it can make contact, she averts her gaze and moves to hop on my scooter. I sigh and position myself behind her.

When I steer the scooter towards the road, I inhale her flowery and sweet scent. I love everything about her. It feels fucking good to have her here, not caring if the fastest scooter in the world is running at minimum speed.

Our blissful moment has been interrupted by the roars of motorbikes. Glancing at the side mirror which I added in the scooter, my assumption is right. Black Coast gang.

"Fuck!"

The first motorbike is going straight towards us.

"Angel, hold on tight. Now!"

She peers over her shoulders but doesn't say anything to protest. I set the speed to maximum, turn left to a small street, pass the park, and enter the front yard of an apartment building which has tall and thick bushes where we can hide. This is why I prefer a scooter over a motorbike — quiet, can be folded and hidden. We crouch down at the corner where the bushes are thickest. Mikayla squats down behind me.

"Are they the Black Coast gang?" she asks nervously.

"Yes." I turn around and the close proximity makes me stare at her baby blue eyes. She looks vulnerable and the spark her eyes used to have is gone. Before I could ask, she hit me.

"This is why I hate you. You can do all the bad things but get away with it, forgetting that your enemies will strike when you least expect it. You punched his brother, that's why he's after us."

"Angel, they attempted to harm you. I would've beaten him to the point that he couldn't get up if Marc didn't stop me. No one has the right to disrespect you or any girl. That's not the way White Coast gang operates. We might be involved in street fights, drugs and other dangerous stuff but we respect girls and protect minors."