The Biker's Sinful Obsession

Zee. The sound of my alarm shattered my peaceful sleep, dragging me out of a beautiful morning dream. I yawned groggily, struggling to open my eyes which still felt heavy from the lack of proper rest. I wished I could stay curled up in bed a little longer, but the moment my gaze landed on the small table clock beside me, reality hit hard. **6:30 a.m.** “FF… fork,” I groaned, relieved I'd stopped myself from cursing. I'd missed my 6:00 a.m. alarm, and now I had barely any time to get ready for school. Panicking, I ran out of my room and rushed to the kitchen, hoping to make breakfast for Dad and myself. But there he was already, flipping scrambled eggs and toasting bread. “Good morning, Dad,” I greeted, a genuine smile breaking through my panic. “Morning, pumpkin. I see you overslept,” he said, not looking the least bit surprised. “Yeah, I stayed up reading ahead for today’s class… ended up sleeping a little late,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. “I figured. Go on, get ready. Breakfast will be ready when you’re done.” “Thanks, Daddy,” I said, kissing his cheek before dashing back to my room. In case you haven’t guessed yet, I live alone with my dad. He’s a single parent. My mom passed away shortly after I was born, and instead of giving me up or falling apart, he chose to raise me all by himself. I love him more than words can explain. He does everything he can to make sure I have what I need—even if it’s just the basics. He’s my hero, my rock. And someday, I hope I can make him proud. Once I got to my room, I quickly stripped off my pajamas and rushed into the bathroom for a bath. By the time I was done, I dried off as quickly as I could. I needed to be outside before the school bus pulled up. I usually preferred walking to school to avoid the stares, teasing, and whispers from the other students, but today, I couldn't risk missing Literature class. It was one of my favorite subjects. So I was willing to risk it. I dressed in my usual pleated dress, oversized sweater, and thick, round glasses, more like windshields. I tried combing through my long, brown hair, which was long overdue for some salon TLC, but when it started to tangle, I gave up and tied it into a messy bun. Then I slipped on my faded white canvas shoes, grabbed my bag, and returned to the kitchen where Dad was already seated at the table, sipping coffee in his construction uniform. Dad doesn’t have a 9-to-5 job. He never went to college, so he works at various construction sites, whatever job he can find to keep us going. “How are your classes going?” he asked as I sat down. “They’re fine,” I replied, chewing on a piece of toast that was a little too hard. But, I didn’t complain. “I just want you to know I’m proud of you. You’re so smart, Zee. I’m sorry I can’t give you everything a girl your age should have…” “Dad,” I interrupted, looking straight into his tired, kind eyes. “I have *everything* I need. I’m happy.” I said gently tapping on his hand. He gave me a small, grateful smile. “Here’s fifty bucks,” he said, sliding the note across the table. “Pick up some groceries after school, okay?” “Sure. Thanks, Dad.” I said as I tucked the money into my bag. Just then, the blaring honk of the school bus filled the air. “Gotta go!” I jumped to my feet. “See you later, Dad!” “Bye, pumpkin. Be safe.” I ran out of the house and sprinted as fast as I could, panting as I climbed onto the bus just in time. “Geez, Zee. Trying to lose weight? Hate to break it to you, but those pounds aren’t going anywhere,” sneered Blake, and the whole bus erupted in laughter. Blake Lowell. Captain of the cheer squad. Blonde. Slim. Perfect. Rich. And an expert in making people feel like garbage. Why she occasionally took the school bus when she had her car was beyond me. Maybe she just liked an audience. I ignored her, slid into a seat, and pulled out my Literature textbook. Reading had always been my escape, ..my safe space. And right now, I needed it more than ever. We arrived at school, and even though I was in a hurry to get to class, I was caught off guard by none other than my crush, Lawrence. Lawrence Davidson, was the head of the school soccer team; he was average height, had blue eyes, and was a face fit for a teen magazine. I have been crushing on him since our junior year, but somehow he has never noticed me even though we had always been in the same class. I wish he would notice me, talk to me, and maybe even kiss me. "Get out of my way, fatty." Blake sneered as she pushed me, and I lost my balance as I crashed heavily on the floor. It had rained earlier that morning, so the floor was still wet and muddy. As I looked up, I saw some students had gathered and brought out their phones to take pictures of me. "Hey, everyone, look, the fat school pig has made her grand entrance," Blake mocked through her cheerleading megaphone. My eyes darted to the only person whose opinion mattered to me, hoping that he would offer some comfort, but my heart shattered when I saw him laughing at me with the other students. My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I held them back not wanting to appear weak. I was about to stand up when the sound of a motorbike immediately filled the air. All attention turned to the Biker who was riding towards us at full speed; though we couldn't see his face due to his helmet, he was looking badass in his leather attire. The question of who he was lingered on everyone's lips, and before anyone could get a grasp of what the biker was doing, he had splashed mud water all over Blake. She screamed dramatically as the mud splashed all over her, from her blond hair to her white cheerleading costume, every part of her body was covered in dirt. And just like that, the attention shifted from me to her in a tickle of an eye. She was so embarrassed that she ran away from the crowd of students making fun of her. Even though I had no idea who the Biker was, I was thankful to him for giving Blake a bitter dose of her medicine. I stood up and went to the girl's restroom to clean up; luckily, I was able to get rid of the stains in time. Once I was certain that I was all right, I rushed to class, eager not to miss my seat. I had just sat down when Blake, who had changed into a new set of uniforms, entered the class with Lawrence following her from behind. There have been rumors of Blake and Lawrence dating, but no one was sure since they both had the habit of flirting with other students in school. Moments later, Mrs. Williamson entered, her warm smile instantly calming the room. “Good morning, everyone.” “Good morning, Mrs. Williamson,” we chorused. “I’ve been informed that we have a new transfer student joining us today—Denver Smith, he will be with us for the academy year. So I want you to please, be nice to him.” She turned toward the door “Denver, where are you?” He entered a few seconds later like he owned the place. There was something… intense about him. His presence was like a silent storm. He was tall and striking, with messy dark hair and piercing grey eyes that looked almost unreal. He wore a leather jacket, leather gloves, patched jeans, and a black shirt that hugged his lean athletic frame. He looked like someone straight out of a teen drama. Without thinking twice, I knew right away that he was my savior, the same guy who had splashed mud on Blake. "Great, just another weirdo to make this weird class, weirder," said Lawrence, who was already feeling intimidated by Denver's presence. His statement made some of our classmates giggle, and that got Mrs Williamson's attention. "I told you guys to be nice," she said sternly before turning to the new student. “Denver, go take a seat,” Mrs. Williamson said. He confidently walked to the empty seat beside Blake, one she never let anyone sit on. She didn’t even protest this time. Just watched him like he was something out of a dream. Mrs. Williamson wrote **Literature** on the board, then pulled out a stack of papers. I had a feeling they were from our last test. Since I was seated in the front, I got mine early. “A+ again. Congratulations, Zee,” she said as she placed my paper on my desk. “Thank you,” I replied, a proud smile tugging at my lips. Being a scholarship student meant I couldn’t afford to fail—not just because I wanted a university scholarship, but because I loved learning. Books were my world. So I gave it my all. Every single time. Mrs. Williamson continued her lesson, and I paid close attention, taking notes and asking questions. I wanted to stay ahead. Just as she was about to wrap up, she suddenly said, “Zee, you’ll be taking Denver for private lessons until he settles in.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Blake’s high-pitched voice cut through the air. “But Mrs. Williamson, I can take him! I wouldn’t mind giving him private lessons,” she said in a voice that suggested she had other plans besides private torturing. Mrs. Williamson raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Blake, I’m sure you would. But with your grades barely clinging to a C, I think you might be the one who needs tutoring.” The class chuckled. So did I. “What’s so funny, fatso?” Blake snapped, her voice laced with venom. I looked away, refusing to give her the satisfaction. Immediately after class, Denver walked out without saying anything to me or acknowledging the fact that I was going to be his private tutor; he acted as if he didn't even see or hear what our teacher said. Arrogant much? In a few minutes, most of the students had left, and as I was packing up, Mrs. Williamson called me over. “Zee,” she said, lowering her voice, “be careful around Denver. He’s... complicated. If he ever gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to step away.” I nodded slowly, unsure whether to be curious or concerned.