The Biker's Rules

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Hitting a wall

*** POV - Damion

Logan drags me – irritated by the whole situation might I add - to pick up his little sister. We walk through the school doors to meet her inside, something about wanting to make her angry. I smirk when I see all the girls checking us out, trying to catch our attention, but I just ignore them. I give a bored yawn, feeling even more pissed off with my friend. But then I almost choke halfway through the yawn.

My eyes scan over my best friend’s sister standing at her locker, her angelic hair curling down to her hot as fuck ass in some tight jeans. It demands me to stand up and pay fucking attention. She turns around, seemingly annoyed, and my heart clenches in my throat. The witchy eyes from my past take mine prisoner and hold me captive. It’s the girl from the haunted house, the one that bewitched me. I see the recognition slamming her by surprise. And I am immediately pissed that she can seduce me with just one look. Fucking magic sorcery. I clench my hands in fists next to my body and bite my jaw not to grab her and kiss those sinful full pink lips.

I push my hands in my pockets, as the low neckline of her shirt exposes the hint of a lacy bra that screams to me. I’m not that 8-year-old stupid boy that fate send into the haunted house years ago just to lose his fucking heart on a stupid fucking girl.

Puppy-love. Voodoo. Obsession. Call it what you want, but I believe that she’s a witch that put a spell on me. But now I’m a teenager and I want to have her so bad, to satisfy this craving she created in me. Maybe I’ll be content. Maybe I’ll move on. Maybe I’ll break the spell.

Those ocean-blue windows to her soul display a motherload of paradoxes – you’re hot, I know what you are, I want to kiss you, I’m not going to, you’re annoying, stay away! The innocence I see hiding there turns on my guilt, and I want her to run, my eyes warning her about the unspoken danger.

I get even more pissed at myself as my throat tightens and all I can get out is a stupid “Hello” like a lovesick nerdy virgin. She breaks the passionate lock between our eyes to scold her brother and for some reason, I find the deviant stance in her posture erotic and ticked off pissed with myself cause I know I’m possessed. Somewhere in my poisoned mind I know she’s forbidden fruit, that I need to keep my distance, but it only makes me want her more. She slams her locker and walks away without looking back. And I wonder why the hell did I get off my bike that day, why did I go into that house, why does she have a brother, why do I have friends … fuck …

I wipe my eyes to get my head back in the present, but although it was years ago, I can still remember each and every detail of that day. The swaying of her butt, how she tossed her hair arrogantly back. Over the years the habit of her running away from me became a rather familiar sight, one that I came to appreciate, one that keeps me hypnotized. Who wouldn’t with an ass like hers swaying away for you to feast your eyes on?

But there lies the motherfucking problem. Every time I hold my stance and don’t run after her. There is not even a choice, it’s made for me. And for good reason. Damion Grimm doesn’t chase! And don’t forget that she’s my best pal’s sister – off-limits. But tonight I messed up just a tad. I was not going there to see her, no, not at all.

LIAR - shoots painfully through my brain.

Just thinking about her sends a soft humming of need through my body and after tonight I know the hunt is on. I’m going to have to choose for myself. I want that fucking girl more than anything else on this green earth. She grabbed me by the balls at that locker and she keeps on squeezing it, not letting go. Since the first time I saw her, Mel just shook my boat and I can’t get rid of her. And trust me, it’s not because of a lack of trying. I’ve been trying for more than 12 fucking years now and it’s as much as my patience can handle. I just need to roll between the sheets with her, just once, to drink the essence of her and get rid of my thirst for her. Every reason that previously stopped me from making her mine suddenly seems inconsequential.

Yes, she’s still Logan’s sister, but at least she’s not a minor anymore, and being the hunter for a change seems like fun. And finding out that she’s still a virgin, well, nobody is going to pop that cherry but me. Fuck! That’s selfish, Grimm. Guilt consumes me … I’m thinking of deflowering my best friend’s sister. Shit. I feel bad for even thinking it, but thinking about anybody else doing it feels so much worse. She’s mine.

I fold my arms underneath my head and stare at the ceiling with hazed eyes. My mind drifts a few years back again.

I was 8 and parked my bike in the forest close to the haunted house. It was a bad day for me, one of the worst, and I just put some flowers on the top steps of this house in memory of my sister when a bunch of kids entered. Silently I watched them from the second floor when chaos erupted and between all the madness of fleeing children, a small girl stood bravely, holding her pierced arm. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She looked like a wounded angel trying to break out of the darkness. Perfect in any way. But it was her eyes that drew me to her, eyes that would haunt my dreams from then on. Eyes that gave me strength to rise above the shadows of my life.

For years I thought about the girl, wondering where she was, what she was doing, hoping to meet her again – and then it happened. The universe brought us together once again.

At the start of my junior year, my parents transferred me to a new school where I became best friends with Logan. They decided that an all-boys private school would help to distract me from the pressures of my hectic schedule. Not only have I won multiple MotoCross championships over the years, but I’ve also already won Moto3 and had my Moto2 championship in the bag. And starting the next season I was on my journey to begin my MotoGP career.

Suddenly everybody was even more interested in me, the press, the public, girls, boys, sponsors, and the new school was supposed to help me adjust, to rather concentrate on my schoolwork and sport. I know it sounds too good to be true, but since I was young my mom used to enroll me in any sport thinkable to keep me out of trouble. I was such a hyperactive wild child, but bike racing has always been my number one priority. I knew I wanted to be a professional Moto racer since I entered my first race at age 3.

But back to the day I lost total control over my own body and mind.

We were heading out to our usual take-the-edge-of spot, a private arena where you can do stunts and tricks with your bike, all in the name of fun. But first, we had to pick up Logan’s baby sister and her friend from school. It was the last thing I wanted to do, so I was pouting, grumpy, and in a foul mood. You can’t blame me because firstly, it was interrupting my fun time, and secondly, not to sound like an egotistical asshole, but girls always seem to see me like a fucking sexual trophy or something. They are like little leeches, attaching themselves to my body, begging for attention, draining my energy and sanity, nearly impossible to pry their little claws away. I know, pathetic right?

And the younger the girls, the worse they acted. So picking up some freshman giggle-brats while I could be riding my bike and having fun with my friends, was not high on my to-do list. Ok, so I may have grabbed some of the opportunities said leeches seem to throw my way. But to my defense, they always spread their legs as easily as butter on toast. I know I earned my reputation as a player. A man’s man. The guy every girl wants and every man wants to be. And the press fueled it on by posting each hookup on every social media page they can find on the fucking world wide web. In my defense, I only used sex cause the pleasure can silence the voices of the demons in my head, at least for a little while.

But racing, doing death-defying stunts always have been my number one way of keeping my demons at bay. When I’m on that bike, my head gets clear and it’s as if the guilt lifts, and I feel lighter, better, almost whole. But it’s always just temporary. The sins of my past drop with heavy force on my soul soon after I leave the track. I stroll over and open the cupboard, the rules stuck to the door as a reminder, my beacon when I feel like falling down the dark pit of despair. ‘Broken’ is the word most therapists used to describe me, and there were many of them. Guess they couldn’t fix the broken boy, not that I ever let them see all of the monsters in my closet.

No, I just let them have a small peek into my prison. Through all the sessions I had to endure, the only advice I took was to create a set of rules to help me navigate my so-called broken life. Rules I always follow to a T, rules that keep me in control as if breaking them would end up in disaster.

Rule 1: Know your demons – take charge and be the ruler of your mind. The start and I suppose the reason for my rules. Very important for a guy who lives on the edge, I can’t afford to lose control in any part of my life or I might just fall over the edge. So to control the squatters in my mind, I must know who they are and what their motivation is. I learned to use guided-imagery, a meditation technique where you visualize positive, peaceful scenarios to promote a calmer state of mind and take charge of it.

Rule 2: Never start a fight – don’t draw first blood. Count to 10 or take a walk. No matter how mad I get, I’ll never throw the first punch. I always control the fight, I decide when I fight and when I walk away.

Rule 3: Follow the bro-code – family members and girlfriends are off-limits. I never screw my friends’ girls or family.

Rule 4: Never have sex in your own space, never stay over – fuck and leave. My space is my own, I’m not invading it for a one-nighter. I’m not proud of it, but in my defense, I always tell the girl before we end up in bed, so it’s her choice. Yes they complain a bit, but it makes life so much easier - no awkward moment the morning after, no facing the girl for breakfast, trying to remember her name. And this way I’m in control, where we have sex and when it ends.

Rule 5: Never get swept away by desire. Although girls fall at my feet, I decide who I want to fuck and when I want to fuck them. Only I control my dick, it only acts on my command, meaning I won’t get a boner if I don’t want to get one. I’m rather proud of this. I must admit here that although Mel almost always manages to make me hard without me wanting to, I’ve figured out some ways that help me get back my control around her.

Rule 6: Always use protection and discard it yourself. No condom, no sex! I don’t want to get any girl pregnant - EVER. Girls will do or say anything to the press to get attention. Money and fame can screw with any girl’s head, the bait that drives any female mad, like the taste of blood for leeches. And according to Dean, weird as it may sound, girls will try to get themselves pregnant with your seed any way possible. And cum in a condom or a mouth is apparently one of those ways. Sick, if you ask me, but rather save than sorry. So a used condom gets tied up and discarded where no-one can get to it.

Rule 7: Never get attached or lose your heart. This way you can’t get hurt. Feelings are something you don’t have control over – and I don’t do anything I can’t control. So no feelings whatsoever. What I feel for Mel is spellbound, and not real. It must be, cause what person loses his heart at the tender age of 8? It just doesn’t make sense.

Rule 8: Don’t get drunk or do drugs. I’ve seen my aunt struggling with addiction, something I never want to go through. And if you’re drugged or intoxicated you lose control.

Rule 9: Exercise and stay healthy. Not only does exercise help to keep me calm, but it also helps me win races and it’s good for my body. And it’s something I can control.

Rule 10: Never do dangerous things while emotional – always think things through. Ok, because I’m rather wild and irresponsible, this rule helps to keep me from racing or doing stunts when my mind is not clear. I’ll never do something stupid or dangerous on a whim, I always plan ahead. I don’t have a death wish – I just like living on the edge – there’s a difference.

I’ve never broken any of the rules so far, it gives me a sense of security, something I can control in my hectic broken life. As I said, it helps to keep my hellish-friends at ease. I drape a blanket over my shoulders and walk out onto the balcony. The sound of the ocean in the dark calms me a bit. I thought that maybe things would be different this time, maybe she was out of my system, maybe the year apart cured me of her, but as soon as I saw her all the cropped up feelings came rushing back, even stronger than before.

I truly tried to keep my distance from her cause I fucking struggle to keep my control when she’s around. After a really bad day, I let my emotions numb my mind and I dragged her with me to the zoo. Everything felt so right, it was just amazing. But after I dropped her off I got scared shitless. She controlled me like a fucking voodoo doll and I realized that if she stuck a needle in the doll’s heart, I’ll never recover. Not to mention that I’ll have to break my rules, the only thing that keeps me in line, the only thing that keeps me from falling down the dark hole. So I made sure that she saw the brunette on my bike the next day. I got back my control, but the look in her eyes would become another demon in the darkness of my mind.

Another guilt-driven burden to place on the ever-growing heap. I managed to keep my promise and stayed away until I won my first MotoGP championship, and all I could think of was celebrating it with her. I went to her school and sort of kidnapped her. We had the best day ever at the Boardwalk, and this time I was going to risk everything and tell her how I feel. But when I dropped her off, Jackson was there. We fought and he hit some sense into me. Mel was an angel, I couldn’t let my demons suck the innocence from her, corrupt her, destroy her, so for a second time I scared her heart and gained another guilty demon.

I started screwing around, even more, to rip her from under my skin. Fucking any brunette I could lay my hands on – never a blonde like her. But it was as if with each girl, the spell she has over me just got stronger, the voodoo in my heart increased. So I stopped at the beginning of the season realizing that it’s impossible to get Melaena Blackburn out of my blood. Out of my mind. Out of my dreams. And out of my heart. It for sure as hell is not easy letting go of one thing that helps with my demons, and going for almost a year without sex is like hell on earth, not to mention that my arm muscles have increased since getting off by hand, thinking about her, is my only option for now.

But after tonight I know I need to change the situation drastically, else I’m going to explode – or at least my balls will. I walk back inside and fall on the bed running the past few hours through my mind.

Almost immediately I recognized the light hair and I gasped a few times to get the air back in my lungs. Shit, she was even prettier than I remembered, all grown up now. My eyes moved over her petite body dressed in a short patterned dress and denim jacket. The dress accentuated her perfect round breasts. Damn, she looked so gorgeous and I seriously needed to talk my cock down before it got any embarrassing ideas. Her eyes locked in mine, making my little man wanting to do the hula. Not being with a girl since forever didn’t help either.

But seeing her with another guy, his arms around her, his mouth in her neck, snapped something in me and I wanted to Hulk out and hit something or someone, especially him. I wanted to kill the guy, to rip his throat out, and squash his head. It took everything inside me to walk away. I have no right to be, but I was instantly jealous wishing it was my arms around her instead. And jealousy was a whole new concept for me. Yeh, I may have threatened to beat up any guy in school that dared to look at her wrong, knowing that my reputation preceded me, and it worked.

I know it wasn’t a very civilized thing to do, but I just couldn’t stand thinking about someone else touching her, and I never cared what the fuck anybody thinks about me, still don’t. I convinced myself that the reason for acting like a pussy-whipped asshole was that I just wanted to protect her from all the other assholes in the world, guys like me. But it wasn’t as selfless as that. No, I just wanted to keep her for myself.

Thinking about how she felt in my arms at the pool table, the look on her face, her lips so close to mine. I could feel those perky breasts against my chest and everything felt so right as if it’s where we were both meant to be. I was going to tell her what she’s doing to me, I was eventually going to say the words I wanted to say for such a long time, and then I was going to kiss her and everything was going to be … fuck.

What was I thinking? Clearly, I wasn’t thinking at all, she’s poisonous, deadly like a fucking rattle-snake. Fucking voodoo magic. Just thinking about her body blows me into a full erection and an iron grip forms around my heart. Something’s got to give, I can’t go on like this. I need my control back cause I’m losing it. I get up and hit the wall letting small pieces of plaster shoot out like shrapnel. Hitting stuff is another thing I got used to since I stopped screwing around.

Guess I’m trying to replace one method of coping with another. I walk to the bathroom in serious need of a very cold shower. The freezing water runs over me while I lean with my head against the tiles, trying not to think anymore. I wrap a towel around my body and walk back into the room.

Dad stands on the balcony, leaning on the railing. When did he get here? More importantly, why is he here? I pull on a tracksuit and join him, putting my hands on the barrier.

“Something wrong with the hand?” He asks, looking intentively at my face and I try to keep any emotion out of my eyes. Dad is way too perceptive for his own good.

“Just collided with the wall.”

“Just wish the walls could repair themselves. Must I send the repairman again in the morning?” He smiles as he pulls up his eyebrows.

“Ye, ye, so I’ve damaged a few walls in my time, ok.”

“It’s a miracle you can still pull the brake with that hand. Damion, you know I love you and I want you to be happy, right?” Oh boy, this is going to be one of those deep emotional discussions. The ones I hate more than losing a race.

“Yes, I know dad. But ..”

“You’re still into this Melaena girl, and don’t try to deny it, I saw how you looked at her, I’m not blind.” He interrupts me. My jaw drops, but I know I can’t hide anything from my father, so I won’t even try.

“I don’t know what it is about her, she just drives me insane. Always has. But she also makes me lose control and I hate it.” He looks back at my bruised hand.

“Yep, I can see that! But getting into 2 fights at the party, was that really necessary?” I give him a stupid smile, feeling like such a fool. How does everybody always know exactly what’s happening in my life? For fuck’s sake, I can’t seem to pee without someone knowing if I’ve missed the damn urinal or not.

“It was necessary, both are dicks.”

“Damion, maybe it’s time to choose, keep on fucking around and hitting walls to stay in control, or take a leap of faith and follow your heart, even if it means losing control. But between you and me – control is overrated.”

“Dad, I’m bad when I lose control. I’m not a good guy and she deserves more.”

“I think you’re pretty darn decent. Definitely in the top 5 in my books, just after Batman.” I smile at my father. He always knows just what to say but I’m not sure if I believe him.

“Son, I’ve never told you this in the past, but I think you should know. I’ve seen Mel at the hospital when she got shot by the arrow. I saw her wearing your team jacket and I knew she was special. I mean, you wouldn’t give away the most important thing in your life just to anybody. That’s why I’ve sent you to the same school as Logan, hoping that you would find her again. Maybe I should have done it sooner, but with everything that happened, I wanted you to have time to heal, to trust yourself again so you could be ready for love.” I feel a little dumbstruck by the information. I almost forgot about the jacket. And all this time my father planned our reunion.

“So you are the fucking universe then?” He laughs and shakes his head.

“Just make sure it’s what you want or else you could end up ruining her life. Mel is not just some random girl. First, try and find out what is she to you?” He squeezes my shoulder and walks out of the room, leaving me to think about his question alone. I gaze into the darkness over the ocean. The water shimmers in the moonlight and you can make out the white foam of the waves.

Wondering what my obsession with Mel is really about. Is she just a sexual fantasy that will lose its appeal as soon as I fucked her, or is there something more to this, something deeper? Why would a small boy become so obsessed with a girl with blonde pigtails and bewitching eyes? Must be some Harry Potter shit. All I know is that I’ve never felt like this about anyone. And hell, I’ve been feeling this way since I was only 8 and it hasn’t stopped. So it must be real then. Or maybe it’s just a spell, a fantasy.

I don’t know how long I’ll maintain the self-control to not chase her. And if I start, I won’t be able to stop until I cross the finish line. But maybe dad is right, it’s time to start the most important race of my life, one I have to win at all cost. And if she wakes up from her drunken sleep, she’s going to be super mad at me. I might have punched her dustbag of a boyfriend, leaving him with a broken nose. To my defense, he started it, so I just hit him back … once. But I don’t think Mel is going to care about the truth.

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