01 | Meeting
Daria
I know the guy is trouble at first glance.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I judge people by their clothes. I judge them by their actions. Just like I am doing with this guy.
When you live in a town like Baycreek, you need to learn to protect yourself. The first lesson—stay miles away from the notorious motorcycle gangs.
This place is an illusion—a peaceful illusion of a small town on the Southside of Montreal. It is a cheery place usually, known for its bookstores, dark roads, lack of government-funded buildings, and the infamous gangs who threaten every corner you have your eyes on.
If you were like me, you would stay the hell out of their way. But if you are like my best friend, Simon Somani, you would do the opposite.
Opposite like getting beaten up by them just outside of campus. Opposite like having one of them threaten you right in front of your bestie’s eyes.
Not a scene you want to be greeted with after just stepping out of grumpy Professor Wilkins’ class.
“Hey!”
My shout makes the guy who is holding Simon by his jacket pull his attention from him to me. He has his sunglasses on but one can still make out the look of curiosity that must have caught on.
It’s a handsome face. Notoriously sharp edges, a straight nose, full lips, and a head of thick dark brown hair which turn a shade lighter when the sunlight hits the strands. He is wearing a leather jacket, with several pockets, and black jeans with a chain for a belt. The letters ′RG′ are imprinted in red to the left side of his jacket, a clear sign that he belongs to one of the motorcycle clubs in town.
They are outside the gates of Baycreek Institution, in a part of the campus that doesn’t come under the Institute’s radar. More than ten people are surrounding Simon, all dressed in the same jacket as the Sunglass guy. Even students from campus are watching them with focused interest.
As I walk towards the perpetrator, I see him tilt his head down a little to bare his eyes on my frame. He watches me with a steady gaze when I stop in front of him. He is tall, probably over 6’2 to my 5′6; his shadow falls over me, hiding the sun behind him.
“Leave him alone,” I say to the guy while I place my hand over his on Simon’s jacket. “Whatever he said he didn’t mean it.”
I try to pry off the guy’s hand from Simon’s clothes but his icy cold grip is strong. When one hand doesn’t work, I try to use my other hand too but to no avail. Simon’s lips have a small cut that’s oozing blood and his fair face has a black eye. He looks at me in a hopeful manner, silently begging me to do something.
“What do you think he said, pretty face?” Sunglass guy asks, voice deep and filled with huskiness.
He loosens his grip only ever so slightly as he leans on his motorbike with a smirk on. His friends follow his actions like minions, watching the scene before them like an audience in a theater. I look at Sunglass guy with narrowed eyes, letting go of his hand and crossing my arms over my chest.
“Probably a truth which hurt your ego.”
“And what might that have been?”
“That you compensate for your small dick by showing your toxic masculinity?”
Sunglass guy laughs, throwing his head back, and then lets go of my bestie.
Simon stumbles back hard, colliding with me. I wrap my arm around his waist while bending to pick up his discarded bag from the ground. As I reach for the strap, Sunglass guy reaches for it too and he is faster than me.
I jerk my head as he picks it up and probes into its contents, pulling out the ten bucks Simon keeps in a small pocket.
“Your big boy took two thousand bucks from me. I’m taking back a few,” he says. He throws the bag back at me and puts the ten bucks in his pocket. I arch an eyebrow when he extends a hand. “Name’s Dax, pretty face. What’s yours?”
I look at his hand seeking mine. He has rings on each of his fine fingers. The top of his knuckles shows the start of a tattoo that disappears beneath his sleeve. Even from afar, he gives vibes of nothing but bad news.
“Not interested,” I reply curtly.
Dax fists his extended hand, pulling it back, all the while not dropping the smirk from his face.
“I like you, pretty face,” he chuckles. “You scored well, Somani.” He jerks his chin at Simon who stands by my side, his jaw ticking with the implication behind Dax’s words.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I say, not wanting Simon to feel like I am taking advantage of his situation. “...and he’ll pay you soon. Give him some time.”
“Gave him a month, pretty face. He asked for ten,” Dax drawls, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
He takes a long drag before blowing white smoke in the air while keeping his eyes on me. I wonder what he looks like without the sunglasses on, what color his eyes are.
I turn to Simon with my eyebrows pulled together. He understands what I mean to say and bows his head down in embarrassment.
Simon has never been one to borrow money, especially from members of the gangs. The whole town knows how vicious they can be when it comes to money matters. The only reason I believe he would do something reckless as this is because of his girlfriend, Tina.
He loves her to death.
“Don’t look at him like that, babe. Poor guy wanted money to pay off some girl’s loans. She probably forgot to look into his pockets before dating him.”
He laughs along with his mates. My fingers curl into fists as I look at their grinning faces.
“I’ll pay for him.” I reach into my jeans and pull out my purse. “Five thousand bucks, right?”
I quickly regret offering because all I find in my purse is 50 bucks and a coupon for the local mall.
Shit! That’s embarrassing.I forgot I don’t carry that much cash around. Dad taught me how risky it is.
“Take this for now. I’ll pay the rest tomorrow.”
Reluctantly, I pull out the fifty and extend the notes to Dax. The rider looks at my hand and then at me, his face switching from a smile to tense instantly.
He drops the cigarette on the ground and I observe as he lifts a hand. I expect him to take the money from me but he instead grabs my wrist, pulling me hard against his chest. I gasp, Simon’s grip loosening from around me as Dax turns me around, picking me up by my waist and depositing me on top of his bike.
His face is so close, close enough that I can see the pupils of his eyes through his sunglasses and smell his cologne. He smells like peppermint and sandalwood, his breath combining with the scent of smoke. His hands resting on my thighs are strong, their grip hard and heavy, keeping me unmoved.
Dax parts my knees, placing himself between my legs while his friends watch with snickering looks.
“Pretty face…” Dax murmurs. His lips are so close to mine that I can’t help but stay rooted on spot. “Never offer money to a Spencer. We don’t take it from women. Understood?”
My insides burn at our closeness as I gulp and don’t even realize that I have nodded in response to him.
He smiles, full lips curving beautifully. The sight makes my legs squeeze themselves but him standing in between makes it impossible.
“Good...now what’s your name?”
His voice is demanding, just like his grip, making my mouth automatically answer.
“Daria.”
“Daria,” Dax repeats, trailing a strand of my black hair while he breathes in the air between us like he is intoxicated. “Tell me...what do you wish for, Daria?”
My name from his lips sounds possessive, threatening even, reminding me of all bad things that seem immoral and unholy.
“Huh...for you to forgive Simon’s debts?”
I sound like an idiot but at that moment, it is the only thing I can think of. Something about the way he is holding me makes me shit-scared of him. I want to keep conversing with him so that he doesn’t have time to hurt me. I have no trust in these gang members. They can be ruthless, anywhere and anytime.
A corner of Dax’s lips twitches like he is trying hard to fight back a smile.m“I’ll remember you,Daria.”
Just as he lifted me, he puts me down, beside Simon who quickly grabs my hand, as if he is afraid of Dax just as I am.
“I forgive your debts, Somani,” Dax announces to Simon and the rest of the crowd gathered around us to watch the show. “Give a kiss from me to Daria for that.”
I gulp, eyes widening at his words.
Dax swings a leg above his motorbike and wears his helmet. His friends follow his actions, all of them climbing into their rides. Dax’s face disappears into his helmet and then, he and his gang are off, leaving dust and smoke behind them.
“What the fuck just happened?” I turn to a bloody, beaten-up Simon as soon as the gang disappears.
He is completely disheveled. His shirt is torn open, his round face has a huge cut, his glasses have a crack on them and his hair is messy, not the way he left home.
“I have absolutely no idea,” he sighs, looking pale as a ghost. “I think you just drove the devil back home.”
