Princess Wrapped in Leather

Today is a day I am not likely to forget. I graduate high school today. One thing that no one expected of me since a single father raised me. My father works hard to provide for me; he is a great businessman and owns a few companies. That is what you see when you look at the surface, and today the surface is all that matters. Everything below the surface can wait until another day; today is my day. "We need to hurry up, so we aren't late!" My father hollers up the stairs to me. I grab my shoes, cap, and gown and rush down the stairs, "I'm ready." "You look beautiful in that dress. How do you want to get to the venue? Car? Truck? Or bike?" He asks me with a smile, already knowing my answer. "Bike, always the bike," I say with a giggle as I grab my helmet off of the shelf by the door. We walk out the door, and I giggle. The bike is already pulled in front of the door and has been washed. "Why ask when you already know the answer?" I ask my father as he walks up to the bike, throws his leg over, and sits, straightening the bike so that I can climb on. "Maybe you wanted to keep your hair nice for graduation? I don't understand the girly things you do before big events." He says with a shrug of his shoulders. "My hair will be fine, it's more me when it's a little crazy anyway," I tell him as I climb on behind him on the bike. He starts the bike, and the rumble and vibration instantly relax my nerves. I can't think of a more freeing way to show up to my graduation. I was not at the top of my class and got into some trouble. But I had good grades and attendance. I'm 17 and graduating a year early. I wanted to get away from that school as soon as possible. I space out on the back of the bike, knowing that my father would never let me get hurt. He speeds down the road, even with the curves he doesn't slow down. He knows these roads too well to fear them. We stop at the light that he didn't time perfect, most of the time its a straight shot, but one light wont make us late. As we sit at the red light, I hear a rumble behind us—that familiar, unmistakable sound of multiple engines. I turn and see them: my dad's friends pulling up on their bikes, one after another, like they've choreographed it. The rumble grows louder as they line up beside us, and I can feel the vibration of their engines mixing with ours. It's a sound I've known my whole life. "Didn't think we forgot about this special day, did ya now, princess?" Bobbie yells over to me, his grin wide and genuine. He's already in his riding gear, his helmet tucked under one arm. Behind him, I catch glimpses of the others—nodding at me, giving me thumbs up, their faces lit up like they're the ones graduating today. I shake my head at Bobbie, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. I can't help but smile, even though I'm trying to play it cool. My dad glances back at me, and I can see the corner of his mouth turn up. He knows exactly what this moment means to me—what they mean to me. These guys aren't just my father's friends. They have been to every school function. They have supported every sport I decided to try. They are my support system and my family, even if it's not by blood. We arrive at the venue. The guy's park along the fence edge, designated bike parking. Before I can even lift myself off of my father's bike, I feel myself getting picked up and spun around. "Knox, put her down. We need to get her inside so that we can get this show on the road!" My father yells over his shoulder as he walks with Bobbie and the rest of the guys towards the doors. "Your old man doesn't let me have any fun," Knox says as he puts me down and grabs my things from the saddlebags on the bike. "He is just trying to keep a schedule, you know as well as I do that he allows you to have a lot of fun. Just Business over pleasure." I say, laughing as I grab my things from him. Knox jogs ahead to catch up with the others, and suddenly it's just me and my dad standing by the bikes. The noise of the guys fades as they disappear through the entrance, and for a moment, everything goes quiet. My dad turns to face me, and I see something in his expression I don't catch very often—something softer than his usual confidence. He reaches out and adjusts the collar of my gown, even though it doesn't need adjusting. "You ready for this?" he asks. I nod, but I can feel my throat tighten a little. "Yeah. I think so." He studies my face for a second, the way he does when he's reading me. Then he reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze—firm, steady, the same way he's held my hand since I was little crossing the street. "I'm proud of you," he says simply. "Not just for today. For all of it. For being exactly who you are." I squeeze back, holding on maybe a second longer than I need to. "I know," I say quietly. "I couldn't have done any of this without you." He smiles—that real smile he saves for moments like this, not the business smile he uses with clients. "You did the work. I just made sure you had what you needed." "That's a lot more than just," I say. He lets go of my hand and cups the side of my face for just a moment, his thumb brushing my cheek. "Go on," he says. "They're waiting for you in there. And I've got a front-row seat to watch you walk across that stage." I take a breath, steadying myself. Then I turn toward the doors, my cap in hand, and he falls into step beside me. We don't say anything else as we walk, but I can feel him there—solid, present, the way he's always been. Right before we reach the entrance, he stops and I stop with him. He looks at me one more time, and I see it all there in his eyes—every scraped knee he patched up, every late night helping with homework, every time he showed up when it mattered. "Let's go graduate," he says. And we walk through the doors together.