Damaged Mate

3

Autumn was settling into a full swing now, a perfect backdrop for the first day of school. Dad made certain this Monday was memorable, having cooked the mother of all breakfasts for us to enjoy together. Pancakes, sizzling hot meats, cheesy feta eggs—he even claimed to have squeezed oranges for juice.

“Dad, I think you’re overdoing it a bit,” I giggled, sticking my fork into some mini sausages.

He shook his head furiously, sliding the last stack of pancakes onto my still fairly full plate. “Nonsense! You only experience the first day of your last year of high school once.”

“Unless you get held back,” I pointed out.

Dad only raised an eyebrow to this.

I gave him a reassuring smile, spearing bits of pancake before putting the makeshift breakfast sandwich in my mouth. “You’re not gonna be late for work, are you?” I asked.

“Swallow first,” Dad chided. “I’m not doing the Heimlich this early in the morning.”

I shot him a dramatic scowl, chewing noisily before swallowing. “You better not be late because of me.”

“I won’t,” Dad reassured as he finally sat to eat, himself. “It’s my office, after all. If I’m late, I’ll just write myself up.”

“Gonna give yourself five less minutes for lunch?” I teased.

He grinned behind his beard. “Let’s hope I go easy on myself.”

We sat and ate in silence for a few minutes as I hastily shoveled in as much as I could before I got going. It was such a strange sensation; usually, I woke up in Mom’s apartment by myself, grabbed an apple or some toast, and hit the bus station to get to school. This was so much more… personal.

“I bet Mom would’ve loved this,” I said softly.

Dad’s smile weakened considerably. “I think so, too. But I’m certain she’s even happier you’re settling in.” He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly poking his eggs with the tip of his fork. “I gotta tell ya, kiddo, I was pretty nervous at first. Mom was really your rock; I wasn’t sure you’d do well with me.”

“Aw, Dad,” I pushed my chair back and rounded the table, wrapping my arms around him as I squeezed him tight. “I’ve always loved being with you.”

He blinked furiously, returning the gesture as he sniffled loudly.

“Oh, don’t y-you dare.” I wiped my face carefully, trying to avoid my mascara. “If I go to school with a messed-up face, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Dad chuckled, finally loosening his grip as I reached across the table for some toast. He glanced at the wall clock, gesturing me toward the door. “You sure you don’t want to take the car? It’s still pretty dark out.”

“What, are you gonna take my bike?” I asked.

“Hey, your old man isn’t that out of shape,” Dad retorted.

I flashed him a teasing grin, planting a kiss on his cheek before slinging my backpack off the nearby chair. “I’ll be fine. We’ll round back to it once snow hits the ground.”

“Alright,” Dad said. “Be safe. Love you!”

“Love you, too,” I replied as I headed out the door, grabbing my bike from the side of the house.

With a snap of my helmet and a kick off the asphalt, I soon found myself rolling down the driveway and onto the humble streets, only needing to pedal every so often to keep speed. It was a bit colder without the sun shining yet; every few breaths came out as condensed fog, slipping past my face as a reminder of the shifting season.

“Wonder if Dad’ll let me use the car when it gets worse,” I wondered aloud.

That was the other nice thing about living in the country, though. These backroads hardly saw any traffic, so I could safely get lost in the depths of my mind without worrying about some asshole running me over. The city had so many rules and codes for us bikers to follow, but out here, it was practically a free-for-all. Hell, I got about halfway to town before any sign of headlights appeared.

Or, headlight, specifically.

The thrum of a motorcycle quickly pulled up beside me, the rider dressed in a zipped-up, brown leather jacket, jeans, and a pair of boots; no helmet or protective gear in sight. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him—the last thing I needed was some adrenaline junkie messing up my morning—but he kept speed with me, going as far as to quiet his engine so my eardrums wouldn’t burst. The guy’s face was tanned from the sun, dark and wavy hair pulled back low to reveal a pair of deeply rich, honey-brown eyes beneath unkempt brows.

“What?” I asked. “You got something to say?”

He shrugged, still smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to compliment you on such stellar safety fashion.” The guy gestured to my helmet, unable to hold back a snicker. “You get that for your seventh birthday or something?”

I knew I shouldn’t engage him, but part of me couldn’t resist playing the game. “At least I’ll live past twenty. Bold career choice, though; don’t know many folks who strive to become sidewalk art.”

Much to my surprise, the guy let out a boisterous laugh. “Okay, okay! I like a girl who can take what she dishes out.” He cut his engine completely now, just kicking along occasionally with his feet to keep pace with me. “Name’s Clyde, Safety Patrol. Unless you want me to call you something else?”

I rolled my eyes again, this time in a far more playful manner. Smooth as chunky peanut butter, this one was. “I’m fine with nicknames, Pollock,” I teased, referencing the artist whose paintings resembled what this guy might look like if he did become the sidewalk art I’d mentioned.

Another laugh slipped out of Clyde’s mouth. “Look at you, pulling out the nerd card. I happen to like a guy who lets his paints go wild.” As if to prove a point, he cranked the handle of his motorcycle, letting a loud growl escape from the engine.

“You know you’re a dime a dozen back in the city, right?” I asked. “This whole ‘bad-boy’ shtick isn’t original.”

“Ooh, a city girl, are ya?” Clyde wiggled his eyebrows, managing to get a giggle out of me. “Well, I’d think you’d appreciate my attempts at livening this place up.”

“Is that what you call making a total ass of yourself in front of—”

The rest of my sentence was swallowed by a yelp as the front of my bike suddenly swerved out, sending me catapulting over the handlebars and toward the ditch. One second, I nearly shared my first kiss with the grass, flailing helplessly through the air as time seemed to snap around me.

The next, I was looking up at Clyde’s face, his arms clutched protectively around me.

“U-uh,” I blinked, feeling my mind completely melt to mush. That was so fast, I’d barely had time to react to falling at all. And, crap, but he wasn’t half-bad looking this close up. I hadn’t realized he had facial hair, either—or was that just a trick of the light?

Gingerly, Clyde pulled me upright, those intense eyes never once leaving my face. “At least I’m not a total klutz,” he whispered with a grin.

A flash of heat crossed my face as I gave him a playful push.

“You never told me your name,” he pointed out. “That’s not very fair. Unless you’re cool being called ‘Safety Patrol’ all year.”

God, no. “It’s Aria. Aria Harvey.”

Clyde’s brow furrowed slightly, expression falling into an entirely neutral stance. It was as if the air had completely frozen around us, creating a sort of suffocating tension I didn’t expect.

“Okay, well…” I started over toward my bike, hefting it off the ground before taking one more glance over my shoulder.

Clyde was still looking at me weirdly, like puzzle pieces were slowly falling into place. Whatever look he now held in his eyes was as equally intense as before, but it gave off the feeling of being… hunted.

With an awkward wave, I kicked off the ground and continued on my way, still feeling those eyes locked against the back of my head. God, but the people of this town were so weird.