weigh a million pounds, bagged down by textbooks I didn’t have earlier.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I glance disdainfully down at the screen, unsurprised to see Mom’s name. Since school got out, she’s been calling me nonstop, never bothering to leave a message. But I don’t want to speak to her, especially since I know she’ll just bitch me out for no reason. I can never be good enough for her.
The roar of an engine has my head whipping up, just in time to see a sleek motorcycle pull to a stop directly in front of me, the tires leaving skid marks on the asphalt. My heart races madly as I take an automatic step backwards, squeezing the fabric of my shirt in my hand.
“What the—” Before I can continue that expletive, the driver pulls off his helmet, revealing dark brown hair interspersed with purple highlights. Elias Briggs looks like sin personified, like every naughty dream I’ve ever had. He still wears his leather jacket, this time zipped up, and it makes his muscles appear impossibly larger. He shakes his head from side to side, shaggy hair sprawling in every direction.
Up close, I can see the hint of a stubble on his full jawline. A scar mars his left cheek, directly underneath his eye. I’m nearly positive that it hadn’t been there five years prior. He exudes strength and raw masculinity, his entire demeanor screaming, “back the fuck up.”
But seeing him makes my heart hurt. Physically hurt. Each heartbeat ricochets through my chest like a pinball machine.
“Elias.” I nod my head at him in a curt greeting, knowing that my apathetic tone will piss him off to no end. As expected, his eyes tighten marginally as he leans over the handlebars of his bike.
“Why the fuck are you walking home alone?” he demands, and I’m momentarily struck speechless by the direction of this conversation.
“Excuse me?” I ask, disbelief lacing my tone.
“You shouldn’t be alone,” he snaps, reaching behind him and procuring a second helmet. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”
I snort before I can rein in the noise.
“Nah. I’d rather walk.” Giving him a blistering glare, I pick up my pace and sidestep him and that damn bike.
Immediately, he catches up to me, wheeling his large bike beside him.
I attempt to walk even faster, to where it’s a borderline light jog, but Elias’s long legs easily keep pace with me.
Anger thrums through me as I shoot him an icy glare.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I seethe.
“Making sure you get home okay,” he responds dryly, maintaining pace with me.
“Fuck you, Elias,” I snap before I can control my temper. I can feel my magic flare inside of my chest, almost like a lightning bug, before I quell the spark down.
Not yet.
Not yet.
With a completely undignified huff, I continue walking towards Nana’s house, attempting to ignore the Elias-sized elephant in the room. What angle is he playing? Why is he pretending to care…or is this some elaborate scheme to humiliate me yet again? My heart judders in my chest at the prospect—at the mere possibility—of them pranking me. I wouldn’t put it past them. These men are beautiful roses wreathed in thorns, much like the flower Beauty plucks in the classic fairy tale. But I refuse to allow these beasts to own me. They already took away the majority of my childhood, and I’ll be damned if they do the same to me now.
I remain silent until I’m through the wrought iron fence and climbing up the twisting driveway. I hear the distinct sound of Elias’s motorcycle engine, and despite my body and mind screaming at me to resist, I reluctantly look over my shoulder in time to see him cast one lingering glance of his own at me before zooming away.
What the hell was that all about?
Before I can stop it, before I can reel it in, a memory hits me with the force of a wrecking ball.
“Give it back,” I hissed, standing on my tiptoes so I could glare up into Elias’s smug face. Instead of looking properly cowed, like I’d hoped for, he granted me a wide smile, one that showed his pearly white teeth.
“Why should I, sweet Peony?” he taunted as he held my short story above his head. This was my final assignment for seventh grade English, and at the same time, I was immensely proud of the story I wrote. There was heartache and pain, love and redemption, hope and regret, all