Phoenix Knight [A Bad Boy Story] - Editing

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

He must have sensed my discomfort because then he laughed menacingly. “One day at a time, okay? I’ll tell you later if you still feel like being my groupie.”

I unzipped my bag and smashed the wad onto his chest. “Take your dirty money, idiot.”

He grabbed my hand and pushed it away. “Keep it.”

“I don’t want anything of yours,” I snapped.

He feigned hurt. “Does this mean you’ll leave me alone?”

He probably hoped that that was exactly what I would do but there was no way I would leave and go back to my day-to-day school life. As alarming as it had been to watch him tear a hole through some druggie’s foot, I somehow found that I benefited from his company. Being with him, riding around on a Davidson and acting like a delinquent was giving me some kind of high that allowed me to forget my normal life. I was grateful for that high.

“I’m not going anywhere, mate,” I assured.

If he was irritated, he didn’t show any signs of it. He must have learned to control how he displayed his emotions. “Don’t you have to go home now?”

“I don’t have a ride home,” I smiled sheepishly.

He groaned and then muttered something under his breath. It sounded a lot like ‘first no money and now this’.

I shrugged. “You’re the one that brought me here in the first place.”

“You wouldn’t have left me alone,” he defended.

“Doesn’t mean you had to take me away from school,” the tips of my mouth lifted slightly to reveal a knowing grin.

He swung his leg over the seat of the bike and held the handle bars so tightly that his knuckles were chalk white. I guess I had pissed him off by offering perfectly acceptable reasoning. “Get on the bike,” he ordered.

I beamed happily and bounced onto the seat.

“Stop acting so happy, it’s giving me chills,” he complained.

“Stop whining, Señor Whiner,” I sang.

He turned around and gave me a questioning look for a moment before looking ahead and revving the engine. Maybe he didn’t like the nickname? It was much better than Barbie but you didn’t see me going around and giving away questioning glances every time he said it.

I quietly examined our surroundings as we sped past one street after another. We had soon left the Central Business District far behind and the buildings were starting to appear more and more residential. And then I noticed something odd about the route we were taking. Was it the best idea to be talking to someone that was hitting between 80 and 90 km/ph? No. Did I do it anyways? “You missed the turn to my house,” I stated awkwardly.

Either he didn’t hear me or he blatantly ignored me. I rolled my eyes and then spoke louder.

Once again, I got no response. I remained silent and kept my arms firmly locked around his torso. I wasn’t wearing a helmet and neither was he so if we got into some sort of car accident then I would be dead within an instant.

In my short skirt and with his fancy motorbike, I realised that I probably looked like one of those whores that biker gangs usually had plastered to their backs as they rode around like hooligans. Oh, great.

My mother would have an absolute fit if she saw me on the back of this killer-two-wheeler with none other than Phoenix Knight.

He had gained quite the reputation amongst parents in our neighbourhood so perhaps it was better that he didn’t drop me off at home. Lord knows that gossip would spread faster than a wildfire.