Chapter 5: Motorcycle Girl

"Do you have a thing for my boyfriend?" Brenda snaps at me.

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"I'm not in the mood for your shit." I snap, walking past her.

I was just trying to get to the cafe while I waited for Mason. I was going to get something to eat. I'm starving.

"I'm just concerned, Nate." She says. "You're so bitter and lonely and you cling to Mason like he's your lifeline."

My eyes widen slightly when I see Odeletta coming up behind her. I ignore her and scowl at Brenda.

"What is it? Are you just depressed because you are gay for Mason? That would make perfect sense, seeing as he's in love with me."

She flicks her blonde locks over her shoulder, glaring at me.

"I'm not gay for Mason." I practically growl. How dare she suggest that.

"That would also explain why you're so rude to me all the time."

Mason isn't here yet, so it's just us, and now, French Fry, who Brenda doesn't know is listening. Mason was in class.

"Listen here, Brenda." I start, pissed off. "I'm not gay. I'm straight as fuck. I don't cling to Mason, I live with him."

"You come out with us every time we go somewhere."

"Because you're fucking annoying and Mason doesn't want to hang out with you alone, so he drags me along. Trust me, there's a lot of things I'd rather be doing instead of talking to you."

"Yeah, like what?" She retorts, as if I'm not going to come up with anything.

"Sleeping, eating, cleaning vomit up off the floor, watching Netflix, driving, getting in a plane crash, and probably anything else, including burning to death."

"You're a fucking dick." She says.

I gasp, putting my hand over my mouth.

"Oh my god!" I say in a loud, girly falsetto tone. "You swore! A real swear! How unladylike!"

"Mason told me what happened with that French girl in your class today." Brenda says. "I'm sorry you failed your stupid test, but you don't get to bully me because your wifey fucked you over. Maybe you should just ask her out already. I know you like her. She's a bitch and you're an asshole. You'd make the perfect couple. You'd raise little demonic children with French accents and you'd probably insult them all day long."

I glower at her, my jaw ticking.

"I don't like her, she's a brat." I say. She's standing right there and she has a smug look on her face. "She's rude, disrespectful, and the list goes on. Also, me going after you has nothing to do with French Fry."

"You call her French Fry?" She asks, incredulous. "God, you are the rudest fucking person I've ever met in my entire life, and I'm going to tell Mason that you hit me. Maybe he will kick you out, and then-"

"Are you guys fighting again?" Mason calls, jogging over to us, almost slipping and busting ass on a patch of black ice on the sidewalk.

French Fry looks smug, but pissed off that Brenda called her a bitch. Mason glances at her and then gives Brenda and I a once over.

"No baby, I was asking Nate if heard from you! I was worried you forgot I was coming over!" Brenda says in a squeal.

My jaw drops, and French Fry snorts.

Everyone looks at her, including Brenda.

"Who are you?" She snaps.

"The wifey." She says. "You're the fakest person I've ever laid eyes on. Your voice sounds like a cat that got kicked off a five story building."

I snigger, putting my hand over my mouth.

Brenda's eyes fill with a fire I've ever seen before and she raises her hand like she's going to slap French Fry.

Right when she swings, French Fry catches her hand with ease, twisting her arm behind her back.

"Ow!" Brenda whines, screaming, literally, like she's being murdered. French Fry tightens her grip, a terrifying fire in her eyes.

After a moment, Brenda stops screaming and starts whimpering. She releases her roughly and she stumbles forward, crashing into Mason, who steadies her.

"Next time you call me a bitch, kitten, I won't give you pain. I will give you agony."

Mason looks at me, and then looks at Brenda, and he looks pissed, running his hand through his shoulder length brown hair.

"Can't you be nice to her for five fucking seconds?" He snaps at me. "I'm so sick of you degrading my girlfriend!"

I find myself getting pissed off.

"Dammit Mason, we've been friends since elementary! Every fucking time she shows up, you start treating me like shit!"

"You treat her like shit!" He replies angrily. "Every time she's around you turn into a dick!"

"Yeah, because you turn into a fake fuck, like her! She was just standing here saying how she was going to tell you I slapped her in hopes that you'd kick me out of the apartment!"

"No she didn't! You're full of shit!"

"That's not true." Brenda sniffles.

"It is true!" I say, my hands in fists. "She's a fake fuck, she started the whole damn fight when she walked up to me, and I was just walking minding my own business and she accused me of having a thing for you! Like a thing thing, like a fucking crush or some gay shit! I'm not a fucking homophobe, but I don't like dick! She's the fake one, I tell it as it is, and gentlemen Nate might be gone, but I would never hit a girl, any age, race, or nationality!"

Mason looks at Brenda.

"Did you seriously accuse him of liking me? Saying you'd lie to me about him hitting you?"

"No!" Brenda squeaks.

"Yes she did!" I exclaim.

"No I didn't! I wouldn't flarping do that!"

"Flarping? What the hell does that mean?" I snap.

"In case you haven't noticed, Brenda doesn't swear. Fuck you, Nathan, you're such a fucking liar."

"I'm not lying!" I say, livid.

"Uh." French Fry coughs. "As much as I hate Natalia-" she cuts off. "Natalie." She corrects. "He's telling the truth. I saw the whole thing, Spears here did accuse him of liking you, she did swear, and she did say she was going to hit herself to get him kicked out of his...wherever he lives."

"Did you just call her Spears?" I blurt. She looks at me, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, her name is Britney, correct?" French Fry looks genuinely confused. I start laughing, but Mason sends me a dark look, so I force myself to stop.

"Are you going to believe them over me?" Brenda whines.

"Yes." Mason says. "And I'm upset that I have to, but it's two against one."

"Are you breaking up with me?" Brenda starts sobbing. French Fry rolls her eyes.

"No." He says.

"I'm sorry, baby!" She whimpers.

"I forgive you." He says.

Is he fucking kidding me right now?

"If you're going to spend all your time in the apartment, you're going to pay rent." I snarl at her, and then I turn around and stalk off.

I trudge through the snow.

"Natalie!" French Fry follows me. I stop when I reach a parking spot with a motorcycle in it and turn to face her.

"My name is Nathan."

"You call me French Fry." She snaps.

I hesitate.

"Fair enough." I decide. "What do you want?"

Her eyes narrows to slits.

"I hear you like me." She smiles smugly, and her smile makes my breath catch in my throat.

I've ever seen her smile before.

"I bet you wish I did." I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. "What do you want, French Fry?"

Her eyes narrow.

"I'm hungry." She says. "Let's go get food."

I stare at her.

"Excuse me?"

"Food." She repeats. "You know, you look at a menu or get ingredients and have it made or cook it yourself. It's edible, and most of the time, it tastes excellent."

"I know what food is." I snap. "Why the hell do you want to get food?"

"Because I'm hungry." She glares at me. "Where's your vehicle?"

"My vehicle is at my apartment, and I don't want to get food with you. You fucked me over today."

I went to French class after telling Mason she was going to help us cheat. He didn't believe me so he looked over the study guide, but I was convinced.

Come test time, after the test had started, she raised her hand and said she wasn't comfortable sitting next to me, and moved up to the first row.

Needless to say, I failed. I got pissed off, cussed her out after class, and texted Peyton and told her that gentlemen Nathan was gone, and went home with the intent to cut class, but Mason followed me in his car and bribed me with McDonald's to go to class, and I told him if he drove, I'd go.

So my car is at home and I'm mad at French Fry.

What else is new?

"I'll drive." She offers.

"Why?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. "Are you plotting my murder? Are you going to drive me two hours away and then ditch me in the mountains? Colorado is freezing you know, especially in the winter. I'll die."

"I'm hungry." She says. "I'm offering food here. Are you coming or not?"

I study her angelic features.

"I can't drive." I say. "You'd have to drop me off at home."

"Wait here."

She turns around and walks off.

I watch her walk away.

Why the hell does she want to go get food with me?

_____

"Why do you have those?" I point to the two motorcycle helmets under each of French Fry's arms.

"Because we're going for food." she says.

She shoves a gray helmet into my hands.

"Put the mask down or you'll get snow in your eyes." She says. She shoves her backpack into a little pouch on the side of the motorcycle in the parking spot we're standing in.

I remember this morning when we were talking between a motorcycle.

It never appeared to me that it was her motorcycle.

She looks at my expectantly for a moment, and then she smirks.

"You've never been on a bike."

"I've been on a bike." I snap. "Just...not a motorcycle."

She snickers.

Isn't it usually the guy with the motorcycle in the movies and books? Why does she have the bike?

Shouldn't I have the bike?

I immediately brush that thought away.

In the books and the movies the bad guy with the motorcycle ends up being good for the girl and they fall in love.

I'll never love French Fry.

Still, feeling my ego slightly bruised, I speak up.

"Why don't you have a car? Isn't it freezing?"

"Yes." She says. "You know when you're driving and your windows are down and you just feel...free?"

I shrug, nodding.

"Imagine that on a bike. Everything is open, going ninety miles an hour on the highway, and you can feel the bike through your whole body, the wind trying to force you back, but you hang on. It's an incredible feeling."

She laughs at the look on my face.

"Are you chickening out? Enfant!"

I'm going to call her Motorcycle Girl.

"I'm not chickening out." I snap. I look at the death contraption.

If my mother finds out I'm doing this, she will kill me.

"Nate!" Mason calls, walking up. "Let's go."

I look at him, and his eyes land on the helmet pressed to my chest. He looks over my shoulder at French Fry.

"You're going with her!" Brenda screeches. I ignore, looking at Mason.

"I'll be home later." I say curtly.

How can I just forgive Brenda like that after all the shit she said?

I turn to French Fry.

"When I lean, you lean. Follow my movements. When I lean forward, you lean forward, when the bike goes left, you go left. When the bike goes right, you go right. It's all about balance." She throws her right leg over her left as she gets on the bike, and sits there straddling it, waiting to put on her helmet.

"Nate, this is a terrible idea and you don't know this girl. She's proven to be unstable, unreliable, and untrustworthy." Mason says reasonably. "Come on, I'll take Brenda home and we can have a guys night."

He looks genuinely scared.

I look back at French Fry, who's putting on those black biker gloves, and then at Mason.

And then I walk over to Motorcycle Girl.

"Nathan!" Mason snaps. "Don't be stupid man, I know you're pissed but don't get on the bike! You're like my brother!"

I look at Motorcycle Girl, who is watching me expectantly, and then back at Mason.

And then I too, throw my leg over the bike, my backpack slung over one shoulder, I put it over the other one and tighten the straps.

"You need to hold onto me, around my waist or on my shoulders. Around my waist is safer. Put your feet on those pegs. Thank god you are wearing boots." She says as she points to the pegs. I put my feet on them. "And whatever you do," she cuts off, lifting herself up as she slams her foot down on a lever. The bike roars to life, rumbling beneath us, my body vibrating. She puts on her helmet and I do too. She settles back down into the seat in front of me, her back against my front. "Do not let go."

_____