Bikes & Blood

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Clouds filled the inky depths of the sky. The fleeting glimpses of the stars disturbed only by that of another cloud; plunging the soft twinkling stars into the darkness of the night. The harshness of the boardwalk lights brightened the crisp whiteness of Amara's shoes and the dress shirt she used as a makeshift jacket. The warm air of the night brushing against the skin of her stomach, almost like a gentle caress. The simple black, cropped tank top and baggy, ripped skater jeans appeared to be the wisest of Amara's choices tonight.

Amara's dark curls cascaded down her back in soft, gentle waves as a stray curl fell in front of her face. A huff of annoyance slipped past her lips as Amara brushed the curl behind her ear. Fawn-brown eyes darting from person to person who went about their night on the wooden boardwalk. A summer's breeze blew the salt-riddled air across the wooden planks of the boardwalk, ruffling Amara's hair as it ghosted across the sky.

Amara's nose scrunched up as the smell reached her nose. The saltiness intermingling with something else-something foul. The dank, almost dead smell mixing with the salt and smells of the boardwalk as seamlessly as water skittered down a riverbed. Footsteps echoed upon the wooden planks as Amara turned her head away from the passersby and towards the familiar dirty-blonde haired biker that wove through the people on the boardwalk with ease.

Unlike Marko, Paul's stride was filled with an endless energy that resonated off of him in waves. His bright, cheeky grin and playful, Atlantic-blue eyes dared you to not smile within his presence. Amara's eyebrows lifted with a silent question as he came closer. His white pants, black mesh shirt and charcoal-black suit jacket remained unchanged from the night before. Paul peered down at Amara, board and yet chiselled features riddled with mirth. Fighting the urge to fidget as excitement skittered off of Paul like lightning striking the earth-his silver skull conjoined with a dagger earring glinted in the neon lights, swinging gently in the wind from his left ear. But like Marko, Paul pipped Amara's height and Marko's by an inch or two as the five-foot-nine blonde fought the urge to rock on the balls of his feet.

"When you said you'd find me. I didn't think it would be this fast." Amara mused. Paul's grin seemed to grow as he draped his arm across her shoulders and began leading Amara towards the Ferris wheel.

"You made it quite easy, chika." Paul glanced down at her before returning his attention to the people on the boardwalk. "Easy enough that you took the fun out of finding you."

Amara shook her head with amusement as she let Paul lead her through the ever-busy boardwalk. Stares, much like the ones that were thrown Marko's way, were thrown at Paul. Whispers and taunts nipped at the heels of their feet as they passed by the braver boardwalk goers. Amara peered up at Paul with a slight crease across her forehead. Her mind turning as she tried to figure out who was older out of Paul and Marko. Paul seemed to be the youngest of the two blondes by a year or two, purely because of his personality, but Amara's intuition told her that he was the oldest.

"So, Paul. How long have you lived in Santa Carla?" Amara's pace never faltered as the pair wove through the busier part of the boardwalk. Paul's attention drawn towards Amara for a couple of seconds as they slipped past the ever-growing line of the carousel.

"I grew up in Santa Carla. Born, raised and I'll probably die here too." He snickered, as though dying to him was amusing. "How about you, new girl? You couldn't have been here very long if Marko offered you a tour of Santa Carla."

"I haven't. I moved here three days ago. This is my third night on the boardwalk."

"And your father isn't concerned that you're spending your nights on the boardwalk?" Paul paused as the Ferris wheel loomed above their heads, people pushing past as they lined up beneath the neon-lit ride.