William
Everything I imagined about college during highschool is just exactly what is playing out; Parties, unserious members during team assignments, cafes filled with student's studying and stuffing themselves with junk foods and coffee.
Apparently, I'm part of the college students who stuff themselves with pastries and gulp down coffee every single minute while drowning in the act of studying. As for the parties, I do have an idea of how they play out, thanks to the movies. But this is… something I'm familiar with yet unfamiliar with.
"Jemima, I need to return home!" I yell through the loud noises from people and engines, but the exhilarated red-haired female has all her focus on the men speeding on the road. As thrilling as it seems, it certainly doesn't look legal. But to Jemima, I cannot say for sure the race is what is thrilling to her; rather, it is the men, with their heads all covered with a helmet, yet she and so many other girls are still squealing, cheering, and drooling over them.
Since we arrived, Jemima had been praising the 'hot' racers not for their abilities, but the fact they looked good in leather jackets, and how long their legs are, their broad shoulders and the way they ride their bike.
"Sit on me!" A man had yelled from the crowd, and my jaw literally dropped.
I will agree, they look like the men from movies, the 'hot racers', but little do all these girls know that what these racers want is not someone fangirling over their looks rather their abilities, which is why they give it their all.
Don't ask me how I know about that…Unfortunately, I just know it, unfortunately, I still remember the feeling.
"Jemima!" I yell again, tapping her sides this time. It was a success as she finally breaks her eyes from the men on the track and turns to me, however, another attention has also been drawn. Jemima's twin…Jeremy.
They are the only two friends I have been able to make since I moved to the States. Since I started college, and honestly, I do not plan to make more. I like the peace and quiet that comes with the small group of friends. We are now in the second semester of our first year, and at first I thought Jemima would have moved on to her other friends, you know, hanging out a lot with them as they are more interesting than me, but surprisingly we are still friends.
As for Jeremy, he's Jemima's twin brother, and I understand that he's still friends with me, because we are similar. While Jemima is hyper and popular, we are more introverted; we would rather stay in cafes and stuff our mouths with sweet coffee and pastries while we study, but then again, if Jemima is to leave me one day, I'm certain he would follow. Besides, they are twins.
"I need to return home," I repeat, not missing the drop in her expression as she frowns while Jeremy simply nods.
As expected, I am the one to kill the fun.
But I never agreed to be here in the first place and same like Jeremy, but Jemima had managed to drag us here.
"What? No, you can't go." She shakes her head, a silent plea contouring her features. I do feel bad for having to be the fun killer, but I'm not the type to put myself in an uncomfortable and compromising position to keep friends.
"Will is right, Jemima, it's crowded and noisy, he might need some rest."
True, I do need to rest. We had studied in the cafe throughout the daytime, and I need to get home before my mother returns, and I need to leave this place.
"But it's just starting, there are just two races left," Jemima whines, but I shake my head in disagreement. I cannot wait, I cannot watch.
"I really need to leave now."
It seems Jemima has seen the fact that I'm not willing to sacrifice my time because her response came out positive, at least to me.
"Fine, text me when you get home though," She says with disappointment and concern altogether, and I nod in response, shooting her and Jeremy a smile as I wave them goodnight before squeezing through the crowd.
It's almost difficult to breathe, given that all attention is on the racers and bodies are swamped together to watch a race while there is no path for walking. It is frustrating having to push my way out, but what is more frustrating is the fact I do not know where to go from here.
I have managed to get out of the crowd, however, I don't remember where the entrance or exit is. Well fuck my life, how do I get out now?
The people behind the crowd are of no use, they are occupied with their own activities, activities I would rather not bat an eye to witness. I try to avoid their stares as I begin walking to search for an exit gate.
My body halts on its own accord at the sight of well-assembled bikes. It is tempting, I must say.
I want to go over there and slide my hands across the hard yet smooth surface, and maybe ride one.
Fuck, this is the reason I need to leave. Before I do something insane.
"Finally," A breathless voice comes from behind, causing me to turn, only for a helmet to be tossed to me, taking me unawares, however, I'm able to grab it. Unfortunately.
"Get the first Motorcycle and move, you have five minutes. The boss will be upset if you don't race this time." The man, all dressed in a suit, with a coiled-up cord flowing out of his front suit jacket pocket, which is plugged into his ears.
"E-excuse me," I stammer, unable to assimilate what's happening at the moment. But I'm too slow to speak because the man has already turned away and is now running towards the opposite side.
My eyes drop to the helmet in my hands, a tool I'm supposed to stay away from. This is stupid. It's none of my business anyway, I can just drop it and continue my search for the exit. That's the right decision to make.
Still, I can't tear my eyes away from the helmet. My feet remain frozen in place as I follow the intricate design with my gaze — a dragon sprawled across the crown, its tinted visor lifted and ready to snap shut the moment I get on the bike.
I swallow, and memories come rushing down on me. The bright smile from the older man as he helped me with my helmet, as he patted my head through the helmet, and drove me on his big bike. It was the first time I can remember being on a bike. And unlike some other kids who would find such an experience frightening, I took a liking to the fright. It was thrilling, and I enjoyed every experience; I loved the harsh breeze that slapped my skin, I loved the vibration of the Motorcycle as we bent and straightened, delving every road and owning it. It felt like I was meant for the road. And from then…my life changed, I got my first dream of what I wanted to become at the age of eight. Pretty late, but I wasn't exactly the type to pick my path along with the crowd. But I did find my dream, which crashed in the next seven years.
Right now, I want to feel it again, the rush of adrenaline as I push forward, I want to feel the road screech beneath the tires, I want to feel the harsh breeze hitting my skin.
Perhaps this would be the last time I ever cross such an opportunity.
"Yes, this would be the last time I ever indulge in racing," I manage to convince myself, before shutting my eyes, sucking a deep breath and releasing it back. Then I let the demons take over me, hoping I face no consequences of my actions tonight.
"The last time," I keep muttering as I hop on the motorcycle and grip the handle, letting the roughness rub against my skin and pushing me to ignite the engine. The sound of the motorcycle and the feeling of my body vibrating with the motorcycle is what keeps me wishing the last time could take years. I wish this moment could keep repeating itself, enough for me to keep making this foolish decision.
The feeling returns, the rush of adrenaline, the excitement, the cold wind that slaps my skin as I drive forward, as I bend and let my heart feel the spark. Unfortunately, time is too fast or I am too fast, because I am the first to reach the finish line, yet I don't want to get down. I want to keep riding on cloud nine, I want to ride without guilt, I want to ride without recalling that day, I want to ride till the wind sweeps me off the rough ground so I'm riding on the clouds.
"You!" I'm drawn back to reality when I notice a man pointing at me from behind. I hop down slowly from the Motorcycle, and only then am I able to make out what he's saying.
"You stole my bike!"
Oh hell no. This is trouble, and I am supposed to stay away from trouble.
The man isn't alone, there are what I guess are guards behind him. And my guts tell me if I keep standing here, I will be thrown in the pool of the consequences of my actions, and so I turn and begin to run.
"Stop there!" He yells from behind as if I am a dumb kid who would actually listen to him.
I run. Running away from the Karma that is about to hit me. Not bothering to take off the helmet, I speed off on my legs.
However, my breath hitches when I come in contact with a surface, a hard surface, too hard to be identified as a wall yet, too soft to be called a body. Yet, the surface before me is a person.
My body quivers as I try to take a step back but my wrist is gripped by the man before me, the man I am unable to look up at.
I've been caught, he will take me back and I may end up getting beaten up and if lucky enough, I would be thrown in Jail and then mother…
No, I would rather just get beaten up.
"Come with me."