Blair O'Connor was the life of every party-popular, fearless, and always the center of attention. But behind the perfect image was an abusive boyfriend who slowly stripped away the girl she used to be.
After finally breaking free, Blair transfers...
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Eloise was up bright and early—too early, apparently, to remember she had a best mate. By the time I showed up at her place, she'd already set off for school without so much as a text. Absolute dickhead, honestly. What if I got kidnapped on my way there? She'd be bleedin' gutted then, wouldn't she?
So here I was, standing outside my dad's house at half 8, hands shoved deep in my pockets, trying to keep warm while I waited for Patrick to pick me up. He'd offered to take me to school about half an hour ago, said it'd save me from the freezing walk, which, considering my current shivering state, was sounding like the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done.
I was expecting to see Patrick roll up in a car, so when I heard the low, rumbling sound of a motorbike pulling up instead, I thought I was hearing things. But no—there he was, helmet on, jacket zipped up, pulling up right in front of my dad's house on a sleek black motorbike.
Suddenly, I remembered seeing a motorbike helmet with him a few weeks back when he'd swung by the bar after practice. It had been sitting next to him on the table, and I'd barely given it a second thought. I'd figured he was holding it for a mate or maybe it was just there by chance. Never in a million years would I have pegged Patrick as the kind of guy to actually own a bike.
He pulled off his helmet, running a hand through his hair and grinning as he took in my stunned expression.
"Morning," he said casually, like he hadn't just surprised me half to death.
"Morning?" I echoed, still staring at the bike. "Patrick, what—you didn't tell me you rode a motorbike!"
He laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Guess it never came up. Figured I'd surprise you."
"Well, consider me surprised," I said, practically bouncing on my feet. "This is brilliant. I've never been on a motorbike before!"
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow, smirking as he held out a helmet. "First time, then. Alright, let's get you set up."
He slipped the helmet over my head, his fingers brushing against my jaw as he adjusted the strap under my chin, making sure it was snug. The cool leather of his gloves against my skin sent a shiver down my spine, and he didn't miss the way I looked up at him, our eyes meeting in the stillness. For a moment, neither of us said a word, the space between us charged.
"All set?" he asked, his voice dropping a little lower.
I managed a nod, but before I could respond, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. Turning slightly, I saw my dad standing at the front window, arms folded tightly across his chest, watching us like a hawk. He gave a slight nod as our eyes met through the glass—a silent reminder to Patrick that he'd better drive safe.
I bit back a smile and turned back to Patrick, who'd noticed my dad too and seemed slightly amused. "So, no pressure or anything," I said, laughing a little as I swung my leg over the bike, "but my dad's watching."
