uncle was a Red Demon, and he’d stayed with my mom and me earlier in the year for a month. He hadn’t said why he was here, but him showing up, then Christopher Raith popping up in class the next day seemed too much of a coincidence to not be connected.
My uncle never said a word, and I knew he wouldn’t. He just grunted he was there on ‘MC business’ and that’s all we got.
The other thing I knew was that Christopher knew I knew who he was.
But we’d never spoken a word to each other.
I was almost to my bike when he turned his engine off.
He stood up, and I stopped about ten feet back.
I guess the whole ‘no talking’ thing was about to end.
THREE
Kess
HE SAT BACK down on his bike, stretching his legs out. One hand rested on his thigh and the other on his handlebar. He was still wearing his helmet. He sat there, staring at me.
I stood there, staring back.
Neither said a word.
We were in a standoff, but yet we were speaking a whole lot. I was feeling the vibes in the air. They were strong, rippling back and forth between us, and my whole body was heated from the inside out. I felt feverish, and the strength it was taking to not break was a strain. A big strain.
I was going to break soon.
But, man. He had a helmet. That wasn’t fair.
Finally, I flicked my eyes up. “Can I see your helmet?”
He stalled. I was guess that’s not what he expected from me, but he reached up and took it off.
Goooood, those eyes. That face. That mouth.
I didn’t have words. No guy who was MC royalty should be as pretty as him. A model, yes. Actor, yes. Even a punk preppy, and I had to admit, some of those looked decent. They weren’t my cup of tea, but a girl could appreciate a nice face, nice physique, and what was promised to be a six-pack underneath a certain shirt.
My mouth was dry just wondering what was underneath his faded and ripped jeans, his riding boots, and his grey shirt shredded on the side. I saw it because his leather jacket was unzipped and hanging to the side.
He handed the helmet over, his face stony.
I took it, making sure our hands did not touch, and he noticed. The corner of his mouth lifted for a split second, then he went back to being a wall.
I didn’t wait. I gathered my hair up and pulled the helmet down. When it was in place, I stood back, crossed my arms over my chest, and cocked my head to the side. Then I waited.
He frowned, his own head tilting to the side. “You trying to be funny?”
“Just wondering what it’s like on this side of the helmet.”
His eyes narrowed, those gorgeous blues, but he didn’t say anything further.
Neither did I. That was the whole point of this.
After another few seconds, he shook his head slowly. “What are you doing?”
Maybe the gig was up, and it hadn’t put him on edge. That’d been the hope.
I sighed, taking the helmet off, but I didn’t hand it over. I held it, resting it just on the back of my thigh, and I nodded at his bike. “Since when do you guys wear these, anyway? I thought you needed open-face helmets?”
He leaned forward, plucking the helmet away from me, and moved back. “Easier for cameras not to spot me.”
I looked at his bike’s plate, but it was smudged over.
Who was this guy?
Fine. I’d try a different tactic, and what the tactic was for, I couldn’t answer. I was going with it, feeling my way because there was a weird ebb and flow between him and me.
He probably wasn’t here for me. Right?
I don’t know.
He might’ve needed to hand something in, or... I had no clue, but my gut was telling me he was here for me. That he knew I had detention today. That he knew the exact time I’d be let out, and I’d even be let out early.
He had it all worked out to be here when I would be walking to my bike.
“What do you want?”
He didn’t wait a beat. “You know me.”
“Your name is Christopher Raith.”
His eyes narrowed. “You know where I come from.”
Now I shifted, rolling to the back of my heels. “I know whose blue eyes you inherited yours from, yes.”
One nod from him. “He’s my uncle.”
His uncle was the president of the entire Red Demons MC.