Page 14 of Biker Boo
Rye?Too busy chasing girls at the Pit.
Oaks?Would've bragged by now, and one of the club bunnies would’ve called me.Hell, his ol’ lady would whoop my ass.
Whip?Got a new baby, new woman, and a beer gut that definitely didn’t belong to my masked mystery man.
Vandal?Taken but in my DMs.So, maybe.
And some of the others?Too short.I’m pretty tall, myself.And Mr.Murder Man was tall enough to look me in the eye.But also wore boots.
Legend?My heart twists.Couldn’t be.Shouldn’t be.I’d know if it were him.Wouldn’t I?
Then again, I thought so at the time, with the way he used to hold me…
No.Stop.
I ran into his new flavor of the week.
I jump in the shower at sunrise, letting the hot water scald the confusion off my skin.It doesn’t work.Every bead of steam reminds me of the way the masked man grabbed me.The way he groaned.The way I wanted to tear that mask off but didn’t, because… I didn’t want to know.
Not yet.
Knowing would kill the high.
If I’m being honest with myself, there’s one name I haven’t crossed off my list yet.
Royal.
Tall enough.Brooding.Dressed in black even when it’s ninety degrees out.
He’s not country like the rest of them.Don’t talk with a drawl.Reads weird old books with titles in Latin and quotes poetry when he’s drunk enough.Mysterious in a way that don’t fit in Paradise Falls.Don’t fit in Kentucky, really.
He’s also been my friend since we were teens.Back when he was quiet, loyal, and sweet.
Safe.
At least… I thought he was safe.
Royal scares the pants off most folks with his evil tattoos.The ones he got just to piss off my father, the Reverend.All the metal in him.His goth clothes alone could cause a riot in church.
Touching the crook of my neck, I shut my eyes, reliving the pressure, the teeth, the tongue.No sign of a tongue ring so that rules out Royal.
It’s still morning when I head over to the old jailhouse they call a clubhouse, call the Lockup.One whiff tells me they’re cooking up leftover burgoo in a dented crockpot like it’s a holy ritual.There’s still a Halloween banner drooping from the rafters, and a few busted beer bottles on the floor.Whiskey’s passed out in the corner with devil horns and red glitter on his boots.
I walk in with the hoodie still damp from the woods, smelling of the masked man, mascara smudged under my eyes.
And I sense him before I even see him.Royal’s leaning against the far wall, sipping black coffee.He says it tastes better bitter.His face is unreadable as always.His eyes, dark, smudged like mine, but slow-burning, lock onto me like a fuse that hasn’t quite lit.
For one hot second, I wonder if he knows.
If he thinks I know.If we’re both just standing here, pretending nothing happened while the space between us coagulates with secrets.
Coolly, I cross the room way too slowly and lean against the table near him.Let my shoulder brush his tatted arm like I don’t notice, even though I do.I always do.
“You go to the party last night?”I ask, tossing it out casual, like I don’t really give a shit.
He shakes his head.His long hair is pulled back into a tight bun, but somehow, I imagine it’s not.“Stayed in.”
“Yeah?”I fake a yawn.“Me too.Real boring night.”
