Page 2 of Take My Crown

“It’s okay,” Katy says. “I enjoy hearing you play your guitar. But I’m going to need you to pop to the shop for me. I’m making cauliflower cheese and I realized I haven’t got enough milk.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah, I know,” Katy laughs. “You’d think I would’ve checked before I started grating the cheese. There’s a ten-pound note in my purse, bring me back the receipt and change. And if you’d like to get yourself a little something while you’re there, feel free. Just don’t go nuts, okay?”

“Sure thing, Katy.”

After taking the money from her purse, I head out and look up at the cloudy skies above. Knowing my luck, it’s going to pour down before I get back from the shop. I can get a coat, but what’s a little rain?

“Love you, Ivy!” I hear my foster mum call as I leave.

“Love you too, Katy!” I yell back.

The sun peeking out of the dark skies shines down on my skin as I walk down the road toward Sketchy’s, the nearest corner shop. We lived in one of those downmarket suburbs where the terraced houses all look the same, with a tiny scrap of land in the front. Every now and then, I have to walk past a house where the owner has made an effort to plant a few flowers in the front garden, but their meagre attempts can’t cover up the fact that this is a rough area where most people are more concerned about clinging to what little they had than keeping up with the Joneses. The new builds opposite our houses are built by a clueless contractor who doesn't know how bad the area is. Yet, they somehow still sold the houses, judging by the signs outside.

Sketchy’s is a ten-minute walk away and the fresh air seems to fire up my creative thoughts. As I walk, I play with different combinations of lyrics in my mind. I’m pretty certain I will come up with something which can fix the problems with the song.

At last, I reach the shop and check my phone, seeing it’s a few minutes from five pm when the shop closes. Heading over to the chiller cabinet, I pick up a couple of pints of milk. Then I crossed to the magazine stand, looking for the latest edition ofKerrung!I can’t see it, so instead I pick up a couple packs of gum before heading over to the counter to pay.

“Morning, Ivy.” Mrs Singh greets me from behind the counter. “And how are you doing this fine day?”

“Not too bad,” I reply. “Katy’s making her infamous cauliflower cheese for dinner…”

“Can you squeeze in another mouth to feed?”

I grin and shake my head. Everyone loves Katy’s cooking and I’ve always wondered why she doesn't try to do anything professional with her skills.

“Just remember that if you get hungry, there’s always a place for you at my table,” Mrs Singh tells me.

“Thanks, Mrs Singh,” I smile, taking the change she gave me. Hating the pity in her eyes which is like a knife to my soul. I’m always the foster kid of the town. The kid who lost her mum, no dad or family and now is getting too old to be considered the cute foster kid. I’m now the lost teenager, I see it in their eyes. When I finally leave, I’m leaving my past and the foster kid title with it. I put the milk in my rucksack, popping a stick of gum into my mouth and head back outside.

Humming the tune I have been working on, my fingers instinctively form the shape of the chords I would be playing if I had my guitar in hand. Yes, I think I might have finally figured out where I am going wrong. I need to switch the D minor for an F sliding to a G and then it should work.

I’m so caught up in thought that I don’t hear the motorbike roaring up behind me until it’s practically on top of me, the heat from the engine blowing against my lower legs. I can feel the vibration of the bike on the concrete under my feet.

“You’ve dropped something.”

It takes a moment for me to realise the biker is talking to me. I frown, wondering what the hell I just dropped. I turn around, searching the empty footpath before finally looking at the stranger on a bike.

“Where?”

I can’t see the face of the biker because he keeps the mirrored visor of his helmet down. Clad in black leather from head to toe, he gives off a bad boy vibe for miles. I can’t help but wonder what he looks like underneath it all. Is the leather padded or he is just that muscular? The sidecar attached to his bike on the other side of him takes a little away from the edgy look he had going on, but I don’t care. Boys are not my game right now. I can date when I’m older and hopefullywiser.

I tell myself that…but my body harshly disagrees and misses sex. We are in a permanent disagreement which I’m sure “she” will win.Damn teenage hormones.

“Are you Ivy Archaic?”

I frown. Now that’s more than a little creepy. Thankfully my hormones fuck off real quick and the fact I’m alone in an empty street with a man on a bike who knows my name lets fear take over. “Who wants to know?”

Leaving the engine running, he kicks the bike stand down and gets off.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Someone wants to meet you,” he says, his gravelly and somewhat sexy under different circumstances voice makes that statement sound unappealing.

“I’m good. Don’t want to meet anyone right now. So, see ya!” I turn to run as fast as I can even before all my words have left my mouth.

Without warning, he grabs me around the waist and throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing more than a bag of sugar. My rucksack falls to the ground, as he heads back to his bike.

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