Break Or Be Broken (formally known as Love Me Back)

7 ♫ Sexual Tension Is The New Black

After a lot of arguing, most of which was me saying he had to be a gentleman and help me get on and trying my best to delay so I could gather up the courage to actually ride on that death machine... anyway, after all that, he finally got down and helped me get on, both my legs to one side so I would be able to hold unto it while holding unto Cayson.

Once we zoomed off, I was not responsible for the actions of my fingers.

I buried my face by resting it firmly against Cayson's back and I shut my eyes tightly. It also happened that my fingers dug deeply into Cayson's skin... his fitly built torso.

I felt his palm wrap around the hand I used to grip him so strongly and pulled it, in order for me to loosen up.

"I don't like to feel pain without a lot pleasure, if you know what I mean," he said, and I did know what he meant because seemingly he did a good job at relating everything to sex.

"Shut up and keep your eyes on the road," it came out as a muffle since I was speaking into his shirt.

"C'mon. Just look up. Once." He encouraged.

I hastily shook my head.

"If I countdown to three and you still have your head down, I'll deliberately crash into the truck ahead of us and we'll both end up in the hospital bleeding terribly, but then I'll survive and you'll definitely die, because you're as soft as a cotton ball," he threatened.

"You wouldn't." I muttered hopefully.

The idiot took that as a challenge and just then I heard the tires skidding with a screeching sound and I felt his bike bend towards the side I had my legs to and I thought for a second that we were going to fall and crash so I had began screaming and tears had began flowing down my eyes, but then we got back up.

All the dick could do was laugh and laugh and laugh.

"STOP! STOP, CAYSON! STOP THIS FUCKING THING NOW!" I kept punching him with my other hand, letting my dress fly in the air.

I had almost experienced death in 4-d form, fuck!

"JUST STOP THIS THING!" I screamed, as he pulled up to the side of the road into a gas station and then he finally stopped it.

I angrily got down and began walking away before he called my name.

Using the same anger, I turned to him and gave him a piece of my mind. "You're an asshole! A fucking crossbreed freak! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT? What-what would have happened if we fell?! That was wicked! Ugh! You're... WICKED!!! I FUCKING HATE YOU RIGHT NOW! FUCK YOUR STUPID MACHINE! I'LL FUCKING WALK!" I yelled most of the time of course, making sure to put emphasis on some words by throwing my head forward in force and stomping my feet firmly against the ground. Let it be noted that I was crying like a freaking crybaby that I was.

I turned away and began walking when he called my name out again; not demandingly, just casually like he didn't just attempt murder and suicide.

"WHAT?!"

He cleared his throat and pointed his finger to his head.

Wh-what? Was he calling me mentally deranged?

Fuck this dude!

"My helmet," he cleared out.

Could it be?

I raised my hand up to my head to check if it was in fact true that I was still wearing his helmet.

It was true.

How embarrassing.

I heaved out a fuming amount of breath and took it off. My head was kept down in shame as I walked over and shoved it unto him practically.