Bikes & Blood

𝐗𝐗.

"Pull me out, pull me out, pull me out. You can say what you like 'cause see, I would die for you."
-Train Wreck, James Arthur.

Amara stifled the laugh that threatened to spill from her lips with the back of her hand. Lifeful brown eyes dancing with delight as Marko and Paul led her through the back alleyways of the boardwalk's stores. The mischievous blonde's shushed her, irises swirling with pristine amusement as their hushed snickering glided across the shadow-blanketed alleyway. She huffed out an amused breath of air, worrying her lip between her teeth with a gentle shake of her head.

"Let me get this straight." She paused, sucking in a sharp breath of air as she fought the urge to laugh. "You got dared by Dwayne to go up to a Chinese tourist and ask for directions, but he told you to say what?"

"Wǒ yǒusān gè gāowán; nǐ xiǎng kàn kàn ma?" Paul stated, grinning from ear to ear.

"Which means?"

Marko chuckled, clasping her hand in his own as he interlaced their fingers together. "It means 'I have three testicles; would you like to see?''

Amara snorted, slapping her hand across her mouth with wide, amused eyes. "How did you fall for that?"

Marko leaned down closer to her ear, glancing around the empty alleyway with a conspiring glint to his honeyed stare. "Paul can be quite... gullible."

"In my defence, I thought it was a compliment of some sort. How was I supposed to know that the bilingual Pocahontas had told me to say that? I don't speak Chinese." Said Paul, traipsing over to Amara and slinging his arm over her shoulders.

"That's exactly why I wouldn't have gone up to someone who speaks the language fluidly." She shook her head. Chuckling softly as their footsteps echoed off the alleyway's walls. "That poor girl probably thinks all American men are like that now."

"Poor girl? She was anything but poor."

Amara arched an eyebrow, peering up at the rockstar blonde as Marko seamlessly led them around a corner and into the steady trickle of boardwalk-goers that filled the car park. "Should I be concerned?"

Marko shook his head, turning his head to peer over his shoulder at her. "No. He's just tip-toeing around the story behind it."

"There's a story?" She turned her head back towards Paul, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "C'mon Paul, now you have to tell me."

Paul's gaze glittered with mischief, removing his arm from around her shoulders as he slipped between two cars with unnatural ease, almost like he'd done it a thousand times before. "Let's just say that said girl uttered a colourful string of Chinese profanities after she'd hit me with her purse... several times for good measure."

"You're joking, right?" She prompted, fighting the grin that threatened to creep across her face.

Marko snickered. Narrowly avoiding Paul's hand as the dirty blonde moved to shove his sandy-haired companion. Marko shook his head. Side-stepping Paul as he let go of Amara's hand and lent against her bike, hazel irises swirling with smug pride; his fingertips ghosting over the worn handle grips, smug pride filtering away as a look of recognition bled into his eyes.

"This is Michael's old bike, isn't it?" He asked, lifting his gaze from the faded Honda and to Amara, who turned to face him with a deep crease to her brow.

"How do you...you knew my father before he tried to kill you, didn't you?" She stated, a surety within her voice that dwarfed the question she'd uttered; like even she already knew the answer.