Faux Real [PUBLISHED]

3: What Just Happened?

Christ, my head is pounding. I better not have a fucking concussion. All I want to do is drop off this damn bike, pop an Advil, and take a hot shower. I continue to push the Triumph up the quad, not wanting to go the long way to the auto shop. In the corner of my eye, a girl with long wavy blondish-brown hair wearing a Hilton uniform is sauntering towards me, her dolled up face plastered with curiosity and purpose.

"Hi, excuse me," she says, stopping in front of me, her eyes giving me a slow once-over. "But-"

"You're excused, love," I say, steering the motorcycle around her. I'm so done with today.

Her mouth slightly drops. "Wait, stop!" she commands, holding out her arm and blocking my path.

"Really?" I scoff. "Make me." 

She tosses me an unimpressed glare, coiling her fingers around my handlebars. "Like this?"

I stop dead in my tracks, my eyes darkening. "Don't touch my motorcycle."

She tilts her head. "Don't ignore me when I tell you to stop."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" I scowl at her, meeting her combative hazel eyes.

"I'm Kennedy Carmichael and you're not allowed to have this-" Motion to the motorcycle. "Thing, on school grounds." Did she just- Oh, no fucking way.

I lower the kickstand with my foot, shaking my head. Time for a little lesson. "This thing is a fully restored 1972 Triumph Bonneville T120. This motorcycle is a piece of British history, an icon if you will."

Kennedy blinks then lets out a quiet chuckle. "I don't care if this motorcycle belonged to Prince Harry himself, it's not allowed on school property."

I suppress a laugh. "Prince Harry? Really?"

"Yeah, he was like super into motorcycles back in the day. Shouldn't you know that seeing as your English?"

"Oh, so since I'm from the UK, I should know the pastimes of everyone in the royal family? That's just absurd."

Kennedy's lip twitches. "What's absurd is this entire conversation. Move your motorcycle off the quad." She points to the ground. "It's leaking gas all over the grass. People sit here. That's just gross."

I throw my head back and laugh. "That's oil, you idiot."

Kennedy crosses her arms, her eyes bugging out of her head. "You did not just call me an idiot. That is so rude."

I tap my index finger against my mouth. "Oh, but I think I did."

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Kennedy narrows her eyes. "Just because I'm not well versed in motorcycle gunk doesn't mean I'm an idiot. If anything you're the idiot for thinking you can talk to me like this."