"Shit."

I stood in the street in front of my house and looked up at the bright morning sky. Closing my eyes as the heat of the sun pounded against my lids, I tried to find my calm. Counted to five.

One. Two. Three—­

Didn't work. I lowered my head and took a deep breath before I opened my eyes.

There was a deep gouge on the fender of my motorcycle.

Curling my hand into a fist, I bit my knuckle.

A quick inspection found more scratches all over the side fairing and the engine cover was completely busted. Hit-and-run, I thought, grinding my teeth. Someone had crashed into my bike, and whoever hit it took the time to put it upright before fleeing the scene.

Thank you very much, motherfucker.

I crouched in front of it, stroking the once-­smooth surface, now all banged up—­the metal felt ridged and sharp under my fingertips. I'd had this ride for so long it felt like a piece of me.

Someone was going to pay.

I stood up slowly. When my phone rang, I didn't even look to see who it was and grabbed it like a lifeline.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Cam."

It was Caleb.

I probably should have said something nicer, but all I could grit out was another sharp "Yeah."

I tamped down the anger and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

"You know, it completely slipped my mind," he began. He sounded like he just woke up. "It's not Saturday today, is it?"

I kept rubbing the scratches, hoping they'd disappear. "You're such a genius."

"I hear that all the time." He paused. "Give me a ride to school?"

"You dying?"

"Don't think so."

I blew out a breath when I spotted a rip on the leather seat. "Then no. I'm not giving you a ride."

"My bike's at the shop."

Where mine was going to be very soon.

He cleared his throat. "And I left my car at the club last night. Took a cab this morning."

He sounded guilty. That meant he had slept at some girl's house again, took a cab to get back to his place, and hadn't bothered picking up his car.

"Actually, I changed my mind," he drawled. "I am dying and—"

Whatever he was saying was drowned out by a series of horn honks blaring behind me. I turned around just in time to see a beat-­up Honda Civic speeding toward me like a bat out of hell.

It happened so fast. I yelled, jumping back to avoid getting clipped, and bumped into my bike in the process. I could only watch in horror as my motorcycle fell over with a loud crash.

There was a sound of metal bouncing against pavement. I looked to my right. It was my side mirror.

My mouth opened in shock, but nothing came out.

I stood dumbly and watched as the Civic came to a full stop, brakes screeching like a banshee, two houses down, across from my place. It idled for a few seconds before it reversed like a jet to the house across the street from mine.

I could feel my body bracing for a fight, my anger so close I could taste the bitterness of it.

What came out of it was a tall, willowy brunette ready for war. She wore some sort of uniform—­a green dress shirt and slacks, her long honey-­brown hair down her back—­and she marched to the front door like she was going to give someone a come-­to-­Jesus talk.

She rang the doorbell incessantly, and when that wasn't answered after ten seconds, she started banging on the door with her fists.

Spitfire was the first word that came to mind. What a spitfire.

I had been living in my place for a couple of years now, but I kept to myself and especially stayed away from my neighbors. I'd only ruin their lives if I let them too close. It was easier this way.

I had no idea who lived there, but this girl clearly was going to eat that poor person for breakfast.

The door finally opened to reveal a frail old man with a cane. He looked like he'd be toppled over by a gust of wind. He wore a checkered shirt with suspenders and boxers, like he had forgotten to put on his pants before answering the door. Not surprising, since it was way too early in the morning.

What in the hell could her business be with the poor old-timer?

I could tell she wasn't expecting him to open the door. She stepped back, hesitant. I couldn't hear their words, but she seemed to be apologizing. When she finished, the old man pointed at the house next door.

She must have gotten the wrong house.

I couldn't help but laugh.

Looking contrite, she walked away with her head bowed low. When she raised it, the look in her eyes had transformed from penitent to billowing fire. Interesting.

She was tall and gangly, no curves on her body. From what I could tell, her features were relatively plain: small, straight nose, pale-­pink lips. Her hair was something else altogether. It was thick and shiny, and in the sunlight, my eyes snagged on shades of honey gold mixed with the brown.

She wasn't my type. Of that I was sure. So why was I so completely, unquestionably fascinated with her?

She clenched her fists as though she itched to punch someone. Her walk was purposeful, deliberately intimidating to whichever unlucky bastard caught her anger as she headed to the house next door.

She might not have been a striking beauty, but it was hard to tell from my distance. All I knew was that she commanded my attention like no one had before.

I couldn't help the smile that split my lips. I wanted to see this.

Her gaze briefly met mine, and I swear to God my whole body jolted. I knew that I would always remember this moment. Her presence was too powerful to forget. My whole body froze, scared that if I moved, I'd realize this was all an illusion.

Before she could hit the doorbell, a Camaro parked in the street in front of the neighbor's driveway. I heard a car door open and slam closed, but I couldn't be bothered to look. I couldn't seem to remove my eyes from the spitfire. She froze, then turned with painful slowness toward that someone I still had yet to look at.

Her mouth moved, upper lip curling into a sneer. She shouted something unintelligible, and I wanted to see more, hear more. My mind was unconsciously moving my body toward her. I've never been in a trance before, but I thought this was what it must feel like.

I didn't have to move far because she started to walk down the driveway toward her new target, still shouting, hands flailing with temper.

Did I really think she was plain? I thought, staring at her unabashedly.

She was magnificent. Strong. Powerful.

Her eyes were glowing like fiery embers, beaming deathly daggers.

"You fucking piranha," she snarled.

I glanced quickly away from her to see who she was chewing into pieces, and I stopped cold when I realized who—or what—­it was. It was a monster. The guy was as wide as a house, neck as big and thick as her torso. Tall and hairy as Chewbacca.

What the hell is she doing? Does she have a death wish?

I was going to come and help her out, wondering how in the blue hell I was going to fight this motherfucker. He was heavy so he'd be slow, and I could use his weight against him. I'd probably lose a couple of my teeth and get my nose broken by the end of the day.

She drilled a finger into his chest, shouting in his face. "Remember the guy you harassed earlier, the one who came here to collect your car repair bill? That's my brother, you fuckwad dingle dick!"

She didn't look like she needed my help. The guy stepped back and raised his hands in defense. He looked like he was willing to take her crap to get a chance to check her out.

I gritted my teeth. Should I interrupt? She didn't look like she was in danger. I leaned against a parked car on the street across from them, alert and watching. It would only take me about five seconds to jump in the middle of them if needed.

"Listen here, sweet tits, your brother owes me money. You're not getting a dime out of me!"

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she'd like to squish him like an insect. "Listen carefully, potato face, because I'm not repeating myself. What's between you and my brother has nothing to do with what you owe our business establishment. You're gonna have to pucker up and spring me some money right now or else you won't like the consequences."

He sneered, puffing up his chest. "Do you really think a little twig like you can scare me?"

I felt my body go on full alert. I pushed away from the car, ready to attack him if he made a wrong move. That movement caused him to finally notice me. I placed my hands in my pockets, staring at him. He looked away.

"Oh, probably not," she shot back. "But the cops will." She shook her phone right in his face. "Does your brain have the capacity to recognize this as a phone? Why, let me tell you what I'm going to do with this shiny phone. I'm going to call the cops right now and tell them how your vehicle was delivered to you in good working order and you refused to pay. How's that sound to you, Mr. Dingle Dick?"

Mr. Dingle Dick didn't like that one bit. He turned an ugly shade of red and his left eye began to twitch. He opened his mouth, stopped, and threw another glance at me.

"You get off my property right now," he growled at her. "You're trespassing."

He turned around and lumbered back to his house, slamming the front door closed.

I straightened, expecting her to turn around and finally acknowledge my presence. But she just stood there, hands balled into fists. I could feel her anger and frustration.

I was going to say something, but she spun on her heel and hurried to her vehicle. I jumped behind the car behind me just in case she had any ideas.

Tires squealing, her car jumped the curb, crushing the two lawn gnomes that were happily sitting on the corner of his front yard. There was a loud popping noise over her screeching tires as she ground the gears back into first.

I watched as the broken head of one of the porcelain figures bounced across the street and rolled to a stop by my feet.

I looked up, eyes fixated on the little Honda as it zipped down the street and turned the corner until it disappeared out of my sight.

Wow. Just...wow.

I had to see her again.

But first, I had something to take care of. I pressed the doorbell and waited on Dingle Dick's porch. His face was confrontational as he opened the door but cleared when he spotted me.

He must have been expecting her. I suppressed my smile.

"Hey," he said, blocking the doorway from me.

I didn't blame him. People were usually wary of me. My best friend, Caleb, said it was my size. I towered over almost everybody. I was lean, and working in construction, with all that heavy lifting, had filled me out. He also said, "Sometimes, when you turn all quiet and dark, you get this look that freaks people out. You look at them as if you're assessing them and you can see right through them. You're not afraid and that makes you unpredictable. It's really cool. Like Batman, bro."

The truth was I knew how cruel and ugly people could be behind the masks they show the world. I also knew how to be like them when needed. And I despised it. Maybe that was why I was so drawn to her. She didn't hide anything. She was so...real.

"You're the guy who lives across the street, right? The one with the cool-­ass bike."

"Yeah."

He scratched his head. "Look, man, I don't want no trouble."

I nodded, trying to appear friendly. "I figured. See my bike out there?" I pointed with my thumb over my shoulder.

He shifted. His eyes bugged out as he spotted my bike. "Son of a bitch. What happened?"

I gave him the saddest look I could muster. "She happened."

His jaw fell open. "You mean she did that?"

I looked at him solemnly. Not agreeing, not denying. Well, technically she did. "I may have forgotten to pay my bill."

He sighed, scratched his beard. "It was just a hundred and thirty bucks, man."

I shrugged. What a piece of shit. "Mine was only fifty."

"Well, shit." I could see the wheels in his head turning. "I really don't want no trouble. My old lady will be back tomorrow."

"I heard this other guy owed her money and she phoned his work, his parents, his grandparents, his girlfriend, his neighbors a few times a day. She stalked him everywhere he went until he cracked and paid."

He looked horrified. "Well, shit." He hung his head. "I guess I better pay that bill."

***

My mind was so busy thinking about her that it wasn't until I was on my way to the gym when I realized I had no idea where she worked. I could ask Dingle Dick, but then I'd blow my cover and he might not pay her at all.

Son of a bitch. How the hell was I going to find her? My phone vibrated as I was storing my things in the gym locker. It was my dad. Automatically, as if my brain was conditioned by it, my body braced for a fight. Resentment whirled in my chest. What the hell did he want now? I ignored it, slamming the locker door closed. I don't know how long I stood there, brooding, getting sucked back to that hateful place, before I shook my head to clear it. I headed to the pool.

It was still early in the morning, so I had the pool to myself. Just the way I liked it—­alone.

I raised my arms and did a good, long stretch before I dove in the water. As soon as the water surrounded me, muting the sound of everything, I started to relax.

I cut through the water, and an image of her flitted in my head. I smiled.

Her eyes had that upward tilt at the corners. I felt sudden regret that I hadn't been close enough to see the color of them. They could've been green or brown, I couldn't be sure.

And her legs. Jesus. That girl had long, long legs. I wondered what they'd look like in a skirt. Or tight jeans.

She was fearless and reckless, confronting a man four times her size. I pushed off the pool wall, did another lap, laughed as I remembered her driving over those garden gnomes, and choked on pool water.

When I got my breath back, I continued my lap. Was it really a surprise that I was drawn to her? Most of the people in my life bottled everything up until their resentments and disappointments started to spill over, poisoning everything around them. And I knew a part of me turned out to be exactly like that. And I despised it.

And myself.

I reached the wall, pushed off, and did another lap.

And another. And another.

***

After a quick shower, I quickly pulled on my black shirt and pants, hiked up my boots. Swinging my backpack over one shoulder, I grabbed my phone and headed out to the gym parking lot.

"Hey, cutie," I heard a girl holler behind me. I kept walking.

"Damn," I muttered under my breath as a quick Google search of car repair shops in the city of Esther Falls produced more than a hundred. How was I supposed to find her?

I filtered my search to just the businesses around my area and narrowed it down considerably. Thinned it out some more by searching "family owned." I figured since she personally came to collect the bill from Dingle Dick, her family probably owned the business. Maybe, maybe not.

Was I really going to search every damn shop to find her? What the hell was I doing?

I needed to get my bike fixed anyway, so it was killing two birds with one stone. I was being practical. No BFD.

The thought of my broken bike was starting to piss me off. I still had yet to call insurance, but that would make it too real and I wasn't ready to deal. I needed to find out who did it. There would be hell to pay, I thought as I hopped in my company truck and drove to campus. The temperature had dropped a little, so I cracked the window open to let the cool breeze inside. I turned the radio on and cranked up the volume.

I wondered what it would be like to have her in the truck with me. I had a picture of her standing up through the sunroof. The grin on my face felt stupid, but I really didn't care.

I parked my truck, considered staying in it for a few minutes until lunch break was over. I didn't like crowds and avoided them like the plague, but I was feeling thirsty after my workout and needed to hydrate.

I took the stairs two at a time, then turned the corner toward the cafeteria to get a drink. When I spotted the crowd in the hallway, I slowed down and didn't bother hiding my annoyance. I'd rather have been somewhere else.

I dug in my backpack for my earphones and, when that took too long to find, gave up and kept walking. I wondered if Caleb was on campus now. I might not have given him a ride to school, but that guy could easily get any one of his girls to pick him up. He was usually in the hallway with the team or in one of the lounge areas with girls.

I scanned the hallway, looking for him. And froze. It was her—­spitfire! I was about to do a double take when I felt someone pull my pants down from behind me. I caught the top of my pants just in time and whirled around.

"You fucking asshole," I barked, watching as Caleb dissolved in laughter.

I punched him on the arm and turned back around.

But she was gone.

I swear I saw her.

"Cheapo," Caleb said. "Thanks for not picking me up. Appreciate it, bro."

Was that really her, or was my mind playing tricks on me? Man, did I have it bad. I blew out a breath, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Who're you looking for?" Caleb asked. He placed his hands in his pockets, leaning against the locker as he tilted his head and studied me. He usually did that when he was trying to figure out something.

I shrugged.

"Hmm. That's an eight," he said appreciatively as a blond passed by and smiled at him. Caleb had a thing for blonds.

We usually did this to pass the time, but I wasn't in the mood for it today. Not when she was still in my head.

What the hell was happening to me?

"Need some Gatorade. Be right—­" I paused when my phone rang. It was my dad. Again. I let out a long breath.

Caleb gave me a knowing look. "Which one of them this time?"

He knew that only my parents could put me in this mood. "My dad," I said grimly, staring at my phone.

"You going to answer it?"

I balled my hand into a fist and bit my knuckle. Fuck it.

"Yeah," I answered.

There was a pause before my dad spoke. "You might want to answer your phone more politely than that, lest people think your mother didn't raise you properly." There was disappointment in his voice. As usual.

"She didn't," I said.

He scoffed. "How's your friend Rick doing these days?" His tone was condescending. "Is he still begging people for money?"

We both knew he was trying to get a rise out of me. He knew how badly it affected me when he talked about Rick that way. Rick had been there for me when everyone had left.

"Nothing to say?"

I gritted my teeth and said as calmly as I could, "Why don't you tell me why you called?" So we can both move on with our lives. You've never been in mine, anyway.

"Just checking up on you, seeing how you're doing with your studies."

"I have no time for this."