The Bad boy and the Biker chick

Eyebrows

CHAPTER 4: Eyebrows...

SCARLET'S POV:

"Morning Joe!" I yell as I enter the workshop, peeling off my leather jacket as I pass through the show room and into the back.

"Hey Gel, hey Bell" I punch Gel's arm and ruffle Bell's hair as I pass them; who are both crouched down, working on a customers new Ducati. "What's up with this one? It's like brand new!", I gesture to the bike with my hands; outraged that the dude had stuffed it up already.

One thing you should know about me, when it comes to people that fall off bikes for being idiots on them; I laugh, I'm not a people person at all and care more for the bike than I do the people riding it. That's why my beauty at home look's as new as ever, not that it's in riding condition at the moment.

I'm suddenly picked up from behind; pushing my thoughts away as I'm swirled around in a circle. Knowing exactly who the culprit is, I yell out and muster up the best angry voice I can between my laughter.

"Bell! Put me down!" Before I continue, I should warn you about Bell. Bell has issues talking you see, something that happened when he was a child cut off his voice box, his parents had tried to get doctors help but they were unable to help poor Bell; since that news he carried around a bell to get someone's attention; he and his twin brother left school at sixteen because Bell and his brother where bullied about his condition. It really tore a rift through there family, their mother committed suicide and their farther became an alcoholic; after their farther died, they were eighteen and moved into their own apartment. Soon, they found Joe. Joe took them under his wing for a while; teaching the boys what their parents couldn't. That should explain the nickname Bell, as for Gel...

"Why do you still call me that sweet cheeks?" Gel decides to step in front of me, after, of course I am put down. Once my feet are firmly planted on the ground, I answer his oh so obvious question.

I take a step forward and wrap my arms around his neck, leaning forward; I let an even breath of air weave it's away around his neck and collar bone. He stiffens underneath me from the close proximity of our bodies and I laugh. "Because you put so much product in your hair that not even a bolder the size of Pluto could knock a hair out of place. It could knock a bit of sanity into the peanut of a brain you have though" I whisper into his ear, I look down and step away from him. "A cold shower should help fix that" I point downwards towards his uplifted jeans. I had always known about the attraction Gell had towards me but I could never think of him as anything more than a brother I never had. Both Bell and Gell in my eyes where family, I loved them like I love my parents, even if they weren't blood related.

After fixing my tank top and denim shorts I go into the work shop to find Joe bent over an old Harley. "Still not working?" Joe looks up slightly, white flecks of hair showing that age is beckoning on this 52 year old man.

He smiles and stands up to his normal 6'3, shrugging as gesturing to the bike with his filth covered hand's. I step away from him with my hands in the air as if he were coming to wipe the filth on me. I hear him chuckle, looking up at his face for a second then back to his hands, watching and calculating each move he makes.

"Nope, I can't figure out what the problem is." He slides his hand down his face out of habit and annoyance, leaving a trail of black oil to, not so gracefully, slide down his aging face. I laugh and shake my head slightly, my blond hair falling into my face from my messy bun; taking my hair out of its quick up do and letting it flow down, stopping around my lower back. It's naturally straight at the top but does a series of curls at the bottom that hair dresses 'apparently' fan over. To be honest, I really don't care what it look's like, I never brush it and I don't fuss over it either; it takes to much time out of my day, besides, the natural look always does better in reality... wanna know why? Because it's different and it's me. Not anyone else, only me. That's what teens these days don't get, you don't need to look like barbie in order to be noticed.