Chapter 1
~3rd POV~
Students filled the hallways of the campus building, all of them chattering and gossiping like there was no tomorrow before the classes would start. From a full point of view, Blaze could make out all the cliques of stereotypical college students; the jocks, the nerds, the geeks, the artists, and so on. The noise of his biker boots tugged gazes upon him, and as people noticed him, their smiles dropped, and they gave anxious looks—some even ones of fear and disgust, depending on how they saw Blaze.
"Heh... The skunk arrived."
"Oh, my God... It's him again..."
"Jeez... He wears that leather jacket all the time. Looks like he picked it up from a dumpster."
"I heard he got arrested again this weekend for speeding."
"Stupid biker."
"He looks like a hyena with fleas."
These words would have affected Blaze back when he was in high school, but now, in the second year of college, he was immune to this nasty gossiping. Hearing the others call him skunk or hyena made him feel a certain power. He was untouchable, wearing a shield of leather and studs—these nicknames. Blaze wore them like a badge of honor because deep down, he knew he was real, not some walking stereotype to please others. He had essence.
His old leather jacket, full of badges that represented rebellion and anarchy, was known among the campus, along with his black and red Kawasaki motorcycle. Blaze brushed his fingers through his messy black hair, his grey eyes giving dead stares to the ones giving him ugly glances, making them quickly glance away, feeling uncomfortable. He smirked at their reaction.
'They fear me. Good.'
Along with his leather jacket, he wore a black hoodie underneath with the white Punisher logo, dark grey ripped jeans, and black biker boots. His attire was simple but screamed danger. He stopped by his locker, and the students who were leaning against it, quickly raced away as if the plague just arrived. Blaze relished their reaction. He didn't have to say a word for them to know not to get in his way. Opening his locker, he rummaged through his stuff with a bored look until he noticed something from the corner of his eyes.
The popular ones. The jocks and the cheerleaders were a few feet away from him. Kyle, the quarterback of the football team on the campus, was the center of his lap dogs while the cheerleaders were all giggling and chatting like mindless dolls.
That's when he saw her. The captain of the cheerleaders. It was hard not to spot her, with her long platinum hair styled into a high ponytail and a red bow tied at the base. Her hair looked like some precious type of gold from out of this world. It looked so soft, Blaze felt like cutting it off. One thing was for sure. He couldn't stand her. The way she looked at everyone with her doe-like eyes, that light shade of blue that reminded him of the crystal clear water of the ocean. Then her pouty lips, always glossy, tugged into a bright smile, showing off her perfect porcelain-white teeth. Her skin was flawless, too. She was always glowing, always fresh.
Ashley was the trademark queen bee of the campus — the perfect princess, the goody-two-shoes, the Barbie doll without a flaw. The girl next door that everyone loved.
Blaze couldn't help but scoff as he glanced at her bright-perfect self, so unaware of the darkness of this world because she was constantly in the sunlight. She was in her first year of college and became the captain of the cheerleaders, instantly putting a spotlight on herself. Little was known about her. When she arrived, she was new in town, and despite her butterfly persona, she was an enigma, keeping her personal life private.
Blaze could only imagine what life she had outside the campus. Undoubtedly living in a villa because her parents are wealthy as fuck. He could picture her in her little castle, on her king-sized bed, doing her nails and gossiping with her cheer friends on the phone. It brought a bitter taste to Blaze's mouth.
If he hated something more than the gossip full of arrogance, it was the snobbish people who had the world at their feet only because they were lucky enough to be bred by rich parents. Blaze wasn't that lucky. His father didn't want to hear about him, and his mother had married a man who couldn't care less about him, not that he expected anything different. His entire life had been a struggle — ignored by family, shy as a kid, socially awkward as a teenager, and now, as a young adult in college, utterly hostile.
As his smokey grey eyes glanced at the blonde bombshell longer than necessary, Blaze found his eyes trailing over the curve of her hips and slim waistline — how her tight cheer uniform hugged her body in all the right places. The black-haired rebel couldn't lie. She was gorgeous, to the point where he sometimes dreamt with his eyes open how it would be like to bash her pretty little brains in, to give her a taste of the crude reality. Of course, these were aggressive thoughts created when his hot temper would flare over the boiling point, and he would ride his bike out of town with a baseball bat and destroy stuff at an abandoned building. It was his way of letting steam out.
His sharp eyebrows tugged together into a deep scowl as the queen bee giggled. For Blaze, it was impossible to always be this bubbly without a single black thought in that pretty blonde head. A tight knot formed in his throat, and swallowing it down felt like gulping down on sharp rocks. Around that deep hate toward the queen bee, there was another emotion lurking, like a wolf on the prowl, ready to lunge. He found her extremely desirable, constantly wondering how it would feel to brush his rough fingers through her silk-golden locks. Whenever he would pass her by in the hallway, never once looking at each other, Blaze would catch a whiff of her perfume, and God... it was so sweet and floral. Very feminine and delicate. The opposite of him.
The abrasive part of him pushed these lovely-dovely thoughts of her far away — a reminder that they were from different worlds. It was like taking a chihuahua from Beverly Hills and putting her with a Doberman from the downtown hoods. He was aware a girl like Ashley wouldn't give a guy like him the time of her life. She was royalty while he was a roughneck. Their worlds were like oil and water. They were never mixing.
He could picture what kind of guys the immaculate princess of the campus preferred: the sturdy quarterback star of the football team or the rich guy who had the nicest car in the parking lot, all because of Daddy's money. Blaze only had his motorcycle. Closing his locker, he shook off more ridiculous thoughts that crossed his mind with Ashley and walked away to class, ready for another long day of studying.
After classes and work hours at the car service, because, unlike the privileged snobs of the campus, he had to work in order to sustain himself. Rent and bills weren't going to pay themselves. Plus, he had to eat to survive.
