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“Ready?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I shout back.
He speeds out of the garage, leaving smoke behind us.
“Something came up, so I’m gonna have to take you home.” His muffled voice causes a pang of disappointment in my chest. We’ve spent every single one of my birthdays together, and this is the first time he’s let me down.
But I’m also angry.
He made me wait for ages in the rain for him, thinking he was taking me somewhere nice, just for him to disappoint me and take me home.
“Okay,” I sigh defeatedly.
Whatever.
All I want to do now is go home, have a warm bath, and get into bed. Maybe watch some pole dancing videos.
“You could’ve at least given me your helmet,” I grumble as the rain stings my face from the speed he’s riding at.
We approach my house at the end of the cul-de-sac. My mum’s car is parked in the drive, which is weird, because she doesn’t normally get back from work until seven, and it’s only thirty minutes past five.
"That's weird,” I mumble.
“What is?” Luke asks, scrolling through his phone.
“My mum’s not usually back until seven.”
I climb off the bike, squeezing my hair out from the rain.
“Maybe she felt sick or something.” He shrugs, aimlessly scrolling through Facebook. He’s not even paying attention to any of the posts.
“Ugh.”
“What?” he snaps, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“You’re such an asshole. It’s my birthday today, and you’ve done nothing but piss me off.” I fold my arms across my chest.
“I’ve had a long day, Camila. Just go home. We’ll do something nice tomorrow,” he whines, tapping his knuckles on the engine in front of him. He’s unusually fidgety.
“What happened in the garage?” I try my luck asking, not that he’ll tell me anything.
“Nothing.”
“You expect me to believe that? You’d been in there ages, and now you’re acting like a right dick.”
The rain is still pouring on us. Or, on me. He’s nice and toasty in his motorbike jacket, while the rain is soaking through the material of my school uniform.
His fists clench on the seat, and he digs his knuckles into it. Luke is easy to rile up, and he’s not pleasant to be around when it happens. Which makes this my cue to leave.
“Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, turning and walking towards my front door, not sparing him another glance. I hear the roar of his engine speeding back down the road before I even reach my front door, walking up the front garden path.
“Ugh,” I grumble to myself, pulling my house keys out of my blazer pocket.
I turn the lock and push the door open to the low hum of ‘Stand By Me’ by Ben E King playing throughout the house. She usually plays it in the morning while making breakfast before I go to school, and we dance to it together in the kitchen. It helped to set my mood for the day when I was younger, and we’ve been doing it ever since.
“Mum?” I call out.
No answer.
