Knowing Kiara

3

(PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS they're all i look forward to and I'm getting no feedback🥲idk if it's good or not)

That was terrifying.

The only places I've ever driven a motorbike on my own is up and down our street with Jace running after me criticising my steering and balance.

Navigating the narrow streets of Italy on my own on this thing is whole other level that I was not prepared for.

I near killed my self swerving just to avoid a ballsy pigeon that wouldn't move and at a roundabout I went the complete wrong direction.

I suppose that's the consequence of growing up with a chauffeur driving you anywhere you need to be. You don't learn the rules of the road.

Twice I had to pull over in a back alley to check the map on my phone and redirect myself but at last I make it where I need to be.

By the local church there's a marquee set up on the field. Every day at exactly midday, good samaritans serve hot food to those struggling, so the website tells me.

I approach shyly and slowly, hoping somebody catches sight of me and makes the first move so that I don't have to which is completely unlike me.

Making introductions and social situations are my element. I could be in an empty room and still leave with a friend, ever since I started talking that's just how it's been.

Dad used to joke he would want to muzzle me in public places as a kid, he was so scared I'd expose our secret relation or simply shout 'Dadda' and the rumours would grow until they were proven right.

The point is, shy isn't in my vocabulary. So why do I feel so bare?

My arms lift to remove Jace's helmet and that's when my fingers tangle in my two orange scalp plaits. Eyes bugging out of my head, I slam the helmet back on.

I suppose I'm going to have no choice but to embrace the insane bobble head look and pray that they take my help despite my outfit.

A guy clad in a high vis vest in the centre of it all catches sight of me after I linger in one spot for too long. He finishes up dishing out a bowl of soup and buttered bread with a smile and then makes his way over to me with an encouraging sort of grin.

"Hi are you hungry? We have chicken soup with fresh bread, bottled water, pastries from Luigi's across the street. Today's special is chicken tikka curry if you'd like to give it a try?"

The beachy blonde boy's aura is perfect for this role. Already he's so soothing and welcoming. Not a hint of judgement could be found upon him, yet my cheeks blaze under my questionable disguise.

Of course I seem like the hesitant, too much pride to approach first, dressed in random garments of clothing, type in his eyes. Right now I'm the picture of a person who finds themselves on the other side of those tables to him and it's making me feel unreasonably embarrassed to correct his misinterpretation and offer my help.

My fingers latch onto the end of one of my braids on their own accord and naturally his line of sight follows the movement.

Great, this is all going so smoothly. Not.

This helmet is not leaving my head. The only way my recent bad luck could wreak any more havoc on my life right now is if my lifelong secret identity was exposed in the middle of a homeless shelter during one of the worst days of my life.

Can't a girl do an anonymous good deed without being scrutinised?

I tuck it out of sight into my jacket and stuff my fidgeting hands into my pockets.