“You gave me bloody knees, you jerk-off.”
He snorts, and I turn to look at him. He’s staring down at me, looking so completely breathtaking, it’s almost blinding. His arms are crossed, and his jeans have patches of dirt covering them. Fuck him for being so beautiful. It should be illegal.
“You gave me no choice,” he grinds out. “Now get up.”
I get to my feet, and dust myself off.
“Don’t know what my sister ever saw in you, chauvinistic pig,” I mumble under my breath.
“Say it out loud, Ciara. It won’t be nothin’ you haven’t fuckin’ spat at me before.”
I lift my head and glare at him. “Just take me home.”
“With fuckin’ pleasure.”
I turn, and begin walking toward his bike. I know Spike’s bike—I’ve been on the back of it many times, back when he actually liked me. That was a time I think about often. Before Chey decided she wanted him, Spike and I were great friends. Up until the night he fucked me to get to my sister.
I lift the helmet off the seat, and pull it down over my head. Spike grips his, doing the same before climbing onto the seat and starting the 105th Anniversary, Black and Gold, Softail Deluxe. It’s a beautiful bike. I climb onto the back, and put my hands on my knees. With a growl, Spike reaches back, gripping my fingers and pulling them around his waist. As soon as he lets them go, I quickly pull them back.
“I know how to be a passenger on a bike, Spike. You were the one who taught me how to sit, and not have to hold on.”
He exhales loudly and angrily, before reaching back for my hands. I lift them in the air.
“For fucks sake, Ciara. Give me your fuckin’ hands. I’m not in the mood to fuck around with you. I know I taught you how to hold on, but you haven’t been on a fuckin’ bike in years.”
Dammit, he’s right. Sighing in defeat, I put my hands on his sides, tangling my fingers through the belt loop holes on his faded jeans.
He walks the bike out of the parking spot, and then starts it, pulling the throttle and sending it forward. When his boots are up on the pegs, I relax a little. I’ve always hated the taking off part - call me paranoid.
Spike pulls out onto the highway, and picks up speed. The wind is cool against my face, and I close my eyes, breathing it in. I’ve always loved being on the back of his bike, we used to do it all the time. He used to pick me up each day for work and together we’d ride around, hanging out, just doing what friends do.
Then Cheyenne came into the picture.
Spike takes me to my tiny apartment, and it surprises me that he knows where it is. He stops in the driveway, and turns the bike off.
My heart begins to pound because I’m tired of all the fighting, and yet I can’t see it stopping anytime soon. I don’t want any more of it tonight. Maybe I should just walk inside, shut the door in his face and lock it. Yeah right - I know as well as he does, that won’t happen. I’m too nice. That’s what I’ve been told anyway. I can’t turn people away. I’m always trying to fix things. That’s what you get, for trying to be a good person.
“You’re bleedin’,” Spike says simply after we’re both off the bike.
I glance down at my knees. The blood is running down my legs now, and over my toes. Super.
“It’s fine, I’ll sort it.”
“My fault,” he grunts. “I’ll fix it.”
I look up, and for a moment our eyes meet and I see something else behind his hard, angry expression. Maybe it’s a speck of the boy I used to adore so much.
“It’s fine,” I whisper. “We both know you don’t really want to help me.”
“Don’t fuckin’ tell me how I feel.”
“You told me to go and die last month,” I point out, crossing my arms.
He flinches. “I was fuckin’ mad that you came back tryin’ to get my forgiveness.”
“Yeah, well, I’m fuckin’ mad that you’re here trying to help me when you’ve done nothing but treat me like shit for years.”
His eyes widen. I’m not really sure if it’s because I swore in the same tone he did, or if my words actually surprise him.
“Never made false promises to you, Ciara.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you serious?” I cry. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know how I felt about you, Spike. We were the best of friends, and you knew I had feelings there, yet you still chose to use me to get to my sister. Don’t stand here and pretend you didn’t know what you were doing. You fucked me, you took my virginity, all to get back at her.”
His eyes scan my face a moment, then he shoves his hands in his pockets.
“You wanted that fuck, Ciara. You wanted me to fuck you from the minute you turned eighteen.”
I’m shaking now. “I wanted you to feel it, that’s what I wanted. I wanted, no, I needed to be more than just a revenge fuck and yet that’s all I was. You came up to me that night, you made me feel like a fucking queen and all along, it was you just seeking out a way to make Cheyenne pay. I didn’t expect you to care about me, Spike, because clearly you didn’t, but I did expect that you would have respected me more than that, being that you were my friend,” I stop speaking, and run a shaky hand through my hair. “I thought I meant a little more to you, but I was wrong. You hurt me. You fucked me on my first time, when you should have made love. If you couldn’t have done that, you should have never come for me. You could have gone and got your revenge with some dirty slut, but no, you chose to rip my virginity from me by making me think you cared...”