Grimm

The gym was easy to get out of. Over half the school was there, save for some of the advanced classes. All Wicked and I had to do was use the crowds for cover at the doors and walk out. As for the hallways, those were a tad tougher.

A lot of the teachers whose students were in the gym were roaming the halls in search of wayward students, namely me and Wicked. It didn’t stop us any though. Whenever a teacher showed up, Wicked would push me into a corner and hid us away in the shadows.

Probably doesn’t need to be said, but we happen to delay ourselves in those shadows a few times. Almost didn’t need to leave the school for what we wanted. We still were though. I mean, would you stay?

After a few more our ‘delays’, Wicked and I were nearly out of the school and had only the back gate to get over. And I mean over.

“Why must they lock that thing?” I asked as I peeked around a corner. Wicked touched my shoulder and beckoned my gaze. Turning, I saw her with her arms spread out wide and bowing. “Oh yeah,” I laughed, “You.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Wicked commented.

“It is,” I admitted and then smiled, “But attractive all the same.”

Wicked smirked, making me worry all over again. Pushing me against the wall, she ran off and jumped onto the hood of a nearby bus. With another hop and climb, she was on the cheese wagon’s roof and was climbing over the top of the fence.

“Wow,” I said to myself while she worked, “That was hot.”

I started to move soon enough, but stopped. My shoulder was still hurting. It kept tightening with each turn. I backed into the wall again and rolled my shoulder.

It wasn’t dislocated. I already knew that, so why hasn’t it stopped hurting yet? Annoyed, I turned from the wall and looked at it. “This is going to hurt,” I mumbled.

Closing my eyes, I slammed my out of place shoulder into the wall and hoped for the best. The crash would’ve been enough to make me weep, but adding onto the fact that it didn’t help my shoulder any made it that much worse.

“Ow…” I groaned and backed away from the wall again. Hesitating slightly, I slammed into the wall again. This time, I heard my shoulder pop and felt the sweet relief of agonizing pain. “That’s so much worse,” I complained again, moving my shoulder to make sure it wasn’t still out of place.

Thankfully, I was fine or some semblance of the word. With that ability to maneuver, I started to run. My arm wasn’t hurting as much anymore, but it wasn’t perfect.

As I closed in on the bus, I hopped and touched a hand to the hood. Slowly and painfully, I crawled onto the hood and further to the roof. Eventually, I was able to suffer through my pained shoulder enough to make it over the fence and to the ground on the other side.

“I feel,” I started when I touched down, “Like I’m gonna die.”

Wicked grabbed my good arm and pulled me away from the view of the school. “I’ll give you a massage later,” she said.

“Why later?” I joked.

Wicked didn’t answer. Instead, she circled around the school’s back wall into the parking lot. I knew why. She didn’t feel like running back to my house, so Wicked decided on taking my bike.

By bike, I mean a slick solid gloss black Hayabusa crotch rocket that has been decked out enough to make jets feel inadequate. I’m exaggerating of course, but you get the idea. This bike is my baby, and it is fast. It’s almost not street legal.

“Hello, beautiful,” I said to my bike when it came into view. Rubbing my hand across the gas tank, I looked to Wicked, who was glaring at me. “Sorry. You know you’re the only girl for me,” I apologized and hoped she wouldn’t hold the comment against me.

“I don’t blame you,” she smiled out and looked at my motorcycle, “Your bike is sexy. It’s why I’m still dating you.”

I laughed sarcastically and climbed onto my sex appeal. After a second, Wicked climbed on behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, tucking her fingers in under my shirt to grip my stomach. That seemed to be her way of trying to make me forget the joke.

It was working.

With Wicked on and toying with my abdomen, I started up my black beauty and sped off from the school, nearly shattering windows from the resonance of the torque. I admit that it wasn’t my most subtle of exits. We went through all that trouble to avoid being caught only to have me announce to half the school that I was leaving.

Regardless, I rode off and swerved into traffic. I didn’t slow down any. Not for cars. Not for lights. Not for anything. I had more control on this bike than I did on foot. Speed was my thing. I enjoyed it.

Maneuvering between a few cars, I closed my eyes. Usually not something you do when moving seventy miles an hour, but hey, I wasn’t one for making smart decisions anyways. Besides, with my eyes closed, I felt better. The wind rushing passed my face made it feel like I wasn’t on the ground. It felt like I was floating. Flying. I felt at peace.

Then it got ruined by the sound of a car’s horn. The blaring noise forced me to once again open my eyes and pay attention. With a twist on the handles, I skidded to a stop near my apartment building. I wasn’t even sure how we got here. It was a thirty minute drive from the school. I’d only been paying attention for two.

“Were you driving with your eyes closed again?” Wicked asked me when she crawled off the bike.

I shut off the bike and looked at her. “Nah. I wouldn’t do that,” I lied, “That would be stupid and dangerous.”

Wicked stared at me. She knew how many times I’d almost run off the road because I shut my eyes. Truth was I didn’t need them. I knew these streets better than I did anything else. I’m not sure how I do when I take the traffic into account, but I don’t question it. I just enjoy the only bit of solace I get.

“I’m buying you a helmet for Christmas,” Wicked joked.

I smirked, “I have a helmet.”

“Then wear it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Wicked punched my chest and walked off towards my building in Hell’s Kitchen. I followed a few steps behind her. Walking up three floors, Wicked opened the door to my apartment with my keys. I checked my pockets when I saw that. How in the world did she get my keys? I laughed at her skill as a pick pocket and let it slide.

When she tossed the keys to me, I commented, “You have very good hands.”

“You know that better than anybody,” Wicked smiled back.

“You should remind me,” I offered as I walked in behind, “My memory is a bit hazy.”

Wicked turned around and touched her hands to my chest. I smiled. I was trying to think of another joke, but when Wicked took off my jacket and tossed it into my room, I let it go.
Pulling Wicked into me, I wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her a few inches off the ground. She was shorter than me and petite, so that helped considering I wasn’t as muscular as most girls would hope.

Slowly, I walked to my room, my grey eyes firmly locked onto Wicked’s blue. She didn’t move in for the kiss. Not yet. She knew to wait. She was taunting me and I her. Then finally, as I closed in on my bed, I touched my lips to hers and laid her down.

Wicked gripped my shirt and pulled me closer. Soon, I was so close I could I feel her body heat rising, as was my own. Not breaking the kiss, I pulled her jacket off and threw it somewhere behind me. Taking that as her cue to kill the foreplay, Wicked tugged on my shirt and slipped it off. With that following suit with her jacket, I slid my hands down her side and kissed her neck. Finally some alone time with her.

Then, as luck would have it, everything was ruined.

The front door to the apartment slammed open and closed just as loudly. Quickly, I jumped up from the bed and ran to my room’s door. Shutting it, I began moving my hand down the door pane, locking several chain locks as I did. At last, I clicked the handle’s lock to a close and staggered back to the bed.

I waited, hoping he didn’t notice, hoping my most likely enraged father didn’t hear. Yet again, luck wasn’t on my side.

My father noticed and was at my door. Banging loudly at my door, he started screaming something. I couldn’t tell you what. His words were too slurred for me to comprehend. I honestly didn’t care. I didn’t want to know what he saying. I just wanted him to go away.

After a minute of his ridiculous prattling, some understandable words broke through. “Get out here, you worthless piece of trash!” he shouted. I didn’t move. “Or maybe,” he carried on, “You can send that whore of a girlfriend out here. I’d like to show her how a real man treats a lady.”
I gripped Wicked’s hand tight. It was half for comfort and half me trying to keep from killing my father.

“Come on, boy!” my father kept screaming, “Speak up!” I stayed still, trying to fight back the urge to go out there. “Screw it! You’re not worth my time,” he finally gave up and stumbled off, mumbling more insults as he did.

As he walked off, I fell back into my bed and shoved my face into a pillow. I didn’t want Wicked to see me. She has before, but I never wanted her to see just how angry that man got me.

Trying to help, Wicked lied down behind me and threw her arm over me. I pulled on her hand gently, feeling the comfort of her fingers. I couldn’t look at her. Not now. I kept myself from the world and hoped everything would get better. So I stayed there with Wicked clutched onto me tight and hoped for the solace of sleep to come soon.