Chase The Dark Together || Nishimura Riki (Ni-Ki)

7 ¦ Out of place

"Get in."

He didn't raise his voice – he never raised his voice – but I still heard him loud and clear over the snow that slowly turns into rain.

Nishimura Riki was a force of nature unto himself, and I imagined even the weather bowed to him.

"I hope you're not waiting for me to open the door for you," he said when I didn't move. He sounded so happy as I was about the situation.

What a gentleman...

I pressed my lips together and bit back a sarcastic reply as I roused myself from the floor I was still sitting on and ducked into the car. It smelled cool and expensive, like spicy cologne and fine Italian leather. I didn't have a towel or anything to place on the seat beneath me, so all I could do was pray I didn't damage the expensive interior. Yes Ni-ki was rich, like rich rich.

"Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it," I said in an attempt to break the icy silence.

I failed. Miserably.

Ni-ki didn't respond or even look at me as he navigated the twists and curves of the slick roads leading back to my house. He drove the same way he walked, talked, and breathed – steady and controlled, with an undercurrent of danger warning those foolish enough to contemplate crossing him that doing so would be their death sentence.

He was exact the opposite of Sunghoon or anyone of their friend group, and I still marveled at the fact that they're all best friends. Personally, I thought Ni-ki was an asshole. I was sure he had his reasons, some kind of psychological trauma which shaped him into the unfeeling robot he was today. Based on the snippets I'd gleaned from Sunghoon, Ni-ki's childhood had been even worse than our, though I'd never managed to pull the details out of my brothers. All I knew was, Ni-ki's parents had died when he was young and left him a pile of money, he'd quadrupled the value of when he came into the street racing business. Not that he'd needed it because he'd invented a new financial modeling software in high school that made him multibillionaire before he could vote. With an IQ of 166, Nishimura Riki was a genius, or close to one. 

He was a legend, and he knew it. And all that with just 17 years.

"Are you going to Sunghoon's party?" I tried again to make a small talk. The silence was killing me.

The boys and Ni-ki have been best friends since forever, Ni-ki even joined our family sometimes for Thanksgiving or Christmas but I still didn't know him. Ni-ki and I didn't talk unless it had to do with my brothers or we were fighting again, I don't even know why he hates me, but it all started when we were kids. He just insulted me and called me things and so I did too.

"Yes."

Okay, then. Guess small talk was out.

My mind wandered toward the million things I had to do this weekend. Homework, Homework, some more homework, help Sunghoon prepare the-

Shit! I totally forgot the cake Sunghoon wanted me to pick me up. I'd ordered it two weeks ago because that was the max lead time for something from Sweet & Chique Factory. It was our favorite dessert, a three-layer lemon cake frosted with fudge and filled with pudding.

"So..." I pasted the biggest, brightest smile on my face. "Don't kill me, but we need to make a stop at Sweet & Chique Factory." "No, forget it. We're already late." Ni-ki stopped at a red light. 

My smile didn't budge. "It's a small detour. It'll take fifteen minutes, max. I just need to run in and pick up the cake. You know the lemon one we always eat at one of our birthdays? Please he would be so s- "

"Stop." Ni-ki's finger curled around the steering wheel, and my crazy, hormonal mind latched onto how beautiful they were. That might sound crazy because who has beautiful fingers? But he did.

Physically, everything about him was beautiful. Those pure black eyes that glared out from beneath dark brows like chips hewn from a glacier; the sharp jawline and elegant, sculpted cheekbones; the lean frame and thick black hair that somehow looked both tousled and perfectly coiffed. He resembled a statue in an Italian museum come to life.

The insane urge to ruffle his hair like I would a kid's gripped me, just so he'd stop looking so perfect – which was quite irritating to the rest of us mere mortals – but I didn't have a death wish, so I kept my hands planted in my lap.

"If I take you to Sweet & Chique factory, will you stop talking and staring at me?" No doubt he regretted picking me up.

My evil smirk grew. "If you want."

His lips thinned. "Fine."

YES!

Park Camila: One.

Nishimura Riki: Zero.