It's a Girl on a Motorbike. Get Over It. [1]

Chapter 8

Pic on the side is of the Marshall brothers, Erik, Jake, and Jack :)

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Chapter 8

Elle's POV

“Hey dunderhead! That’s my friend you’re talking to!” Scott immediately stood up and went on the offensive, showing me just how much he liked Jack if he was being all protective over him.

Just like his older sister.

I followed suit and put myself slightly in front of Scott in case the blue-eyed jerk before us actually had the guts to do anything.

But it seemed he hadn’t even heard him because he was too busy eyeing me up and down as if I were an anomaly of some sort.

I suddenly became defensive.

Tall, well-built and features way different to Jake, Jack and Mr Marshall. If it weren’t for his shocking blue eyes and the way he addressed his younger brother, I wouldn’t have thought they’d have been related.

“You must be Erik,” I stated simply, my voice as naturally cold as it normally was, but it finally got him to stop looking at my chest and actually make eye contact.

Pervert.

“So, my reputation of basketball has preceded me,” He smirked as he walked closer, not even paying attention to the angry five year olds beside me.

Honestly it was cute how protective the two were. But I could take care of myself.

“A type of reputation has, yes.” I commented, adding even more frost to my lifeless green irises, and I saw a slight flinch mar his predatory stance for a micro-second before it was replaced with confusion for the same amount of time, and then it was reverted back to his smirk.

“And what would that be? How good I am in bed?” He grinned down at me, and though I was dismayed by how much he towered over me, I reminded myself I had fought bigger people. 

Besides, my whip of a tongue was sharper than any man’s fists.

“Actually how contagious you are.” When the look of confusion once again stretched itself onto his Adonis type of face, I explained. “By your personal stick-shift and your jerk-like abilities.”

“My…? Wait what?” He asked, and became outraged when it finally dawned on him what I was talking about when he acknowledged that there were little kids present and that was why I was talking in riddles. “Who told you that?!”

“What was her name again? Cherry? Cherub? Oh yeah, Cherish.” I said simply, and rolled my eyes when he looked confused, “Fake blond, big plastic globes on her chest area, and a squeaky voice that could penetrate a submarine. Also goes by the name ‘your girlfriend’.”

I’m sorry to say that he only got who I was going on about when I mentioned the last bit. No wonder he looked so lost when he saw me.

He’s obviously not used to normal girls who don’t throw themselves at him (let’s face it; Taylor’s blue hair doesn’t deem her normal).

“You shouldn’t listen to a psycho like that. I mean, I could show you a lot of ways I could prove her wrong.” His smirk grinned and I barely held back the urge to barf.

Not at the way he looked; I may be cold, but I wasn’t entirely dead inside and could therefore appreciate beauty when I saw it.

But the fact that he had used it so much to his advantage showed right now because if that was his usual pick-up line then I know that any woman worth their salt (obviously none of them in this town if he was used to a positive reaction all the time) would have barfed.