I looked up at his face. He was looking down at his boots, kicking the sand idly. I could make out a sharp, straight nose and a black beard coming in. I absently thought he looked funny having more facial hair than on his head which sported a buzz cut.
“It’s okay,” I muttered, fighting to steady my shaky voice.
His dark eyes danced about my face for a few seconds before he broke into a wide smile. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’, kiddo. You got nothin’ to be ‘fraid of. Alright?”
I nodded slowly, taking in his friendly smile, and relaxed at this gesture.
“So what’s your name?”
“Sara.”
“You live ‘round here, Sara?”
“Yeah.”
He removed a cigarette from behind his ear and then dug the lighter out of his denim jeans. I intently watched him light it with his hand cupped around the lighter. The cigarette came to life, its orange glow framing the bottom half of his face, making his pointed chin stand out more prominently than it already did.
“What’re you doing in the dead of night outside in a not so well place, birdy?” Birdy?
“Waitin’ for someone,” I answered, entranced by the strange aura that flowed out of this biker. To me, at fourteen, he was virile, alluring and so off limits. All these things that had me gulp the humid air to stop myself from dribbling. I wasn’t aware that I was leaning toward him, my legs diagonally positioned as the swing moved closer to his. The smell of his smoke dulled the warning of my senses which were screaming to back away and find an excuse to go home.
If he knew of my feelings – which I didn’t do well concealing – he didn’t show it. He smoked his cigarette looking over at me in consideration.
“How old are you now?” he asked. “Sixteen?”
My cheeks flushed and I was glad it was so dark so he couldn’t see it. “I’m fourteen.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Shit, still a baby.” What did he mean still?
I scowled at his term. “I’m not a baby.”
He laughed in response. I felt a hand tug at my hair before it was swept behind my shoulders. “It’s the hair,” he remarked. “It makes you look older than you are. You’re gonna be a knockout, birdy. You aware of that?”
I shook my head slightly, watching his lips take in more of his cigarette. “You should,” he said, looking impassively over my shoulder as he blew out a thick cloud. “This world ain’t pretty, Sara. I can’t say I like you, a girl at fourteen, sitting on these swings on your own in this neighborhood. Why ain’t your parents here draggin’ you back to your room?”
“They don’t care about me,” I retorted, angrily looking away. I hated that the second he knew my age I was being babied.
“Hey now, birdy,” he whispered. I felt his presence close by, and then the clinking of the metal chains of our swings. “I don’t mean to upset you. Just lookin’ out for you.”
I turned back to look at him. He was rubbing his bearded cheek with one hand and putting out his cigarette against the metal pole behind us.
“Why do you even care?” I inquired curiously. “You don’t even know me.”
“Don’t gotta know you to know you, birdy. Just gotta be there to make sure you ain’t in shit you don’t ever wanna be in.”
What a strange answer. Was he high? He looked in control of himself. His eyes weren’t dilated either. Huh.
“How will you know if I’m in shit I don’t ever wanna be in?”
I felt his leather jacket against my cotton pajama top and watched him angle his head so that it was mere inches from mine. I smelled the cigarette smoke as he breathed out and a musky kind of cologne that was surprisingly pleasant. I had to shut my mouth so I didn’t stare at awe at his rough beauty. No one would have found this man beautiful. Why the hell did I?
“You’d be surprised,” he softly answered. “One day I might just pop outta the blue and you won’t ever know it. Might pull a few strings, dangle an opportunity in front of you. All the while you’ll be living life unaware of my intrusion.”
I was so fucking lost; it wasn’t even funny. Yet I was so mesmerized by his voice and face, I didn’t stop to swallow the words until long after. He didn’t know me yet he acted as if he did. But that wasn’t possible because this was our first meeting, and, most likely, our last.
“How ‘bout headin’ home now, Sara?”
I shook my head defiantly. “I’m waiting for my friend.”
His lips curved upwards into a smirk. “Alright then, stubborn one. You can wait on your guy. Be careful, though. I don’t wanna see you lurkin’ around here on your own again.” Without expecting it, he ruffled my hair at the top and stood up.
My body screamed No! and my mind kicked back in relief at his departure.
“See you around, birdy.” And just like that, he was gone. Never learned his name. Damn shame. I sat in the stillness of the night a while longer, mulling his words over.
It was right then I wondered how he knew I was waiting on a guy.
Two
I hated high school with a passion. Jaxon promised me that he would look out for me and that it wouldn’t be as agonizing as people made it out to be. Lucinda loomed over my shoulder throughout the summer leading up to my first year. She was itching to have me looking the part of a high school teenage girl.
She sat me down the night before my first day and did my nails for me. I’d never had my nails done by her before – and not from her lack of trying!
“You need to stop biting these off, Sara,” she whined.
“You’re going to cut them off anyway,” I replied stubbornly.
“That’s not the point. You’re in the habit of biting them off, and I don’t want to dare see your new nails bitten off tomorrow. I’m doing these free of charge, young lady. Be grateful.”
I attempted to feel grateful, but her talking about nails was already making me want to chew them off again. She’d been extra attentive to me lately. She insisted I remove the hairs from my face, whining that my moustache was a sin to female humanity, and don’t even get me started on what she said about my eyebrows…
She gave me my first make up kit and taught me how to apply it. It was a long process that I wasn’t entirely sure I would be able to commit to, but she pushed and pushed until I relented and made her a promise that I would. She took me to the hair dressers and had my hair cut in layers. After my father had left I had the freedom to let it grow. I never knew how thick hair could be, or how time consuming it was to wash it every night with Lucinda’s “rinse and repeat” method and shampoos she’d given me.
“We can put color in it,” she’d said, combing her fingers into my dark brown wavy mess.
“Please don’t,” I begged. Her paying for the cut was already too generous.
She spoiled me rotten and took me to some second hand shops for clothes. With the price on some of the items I wondered why on earth I’d grown up with barely anything in my closet. There was no excuse for my parents not to spend so little on me. How fucking petty of them.
“You see, Sara,” she started, going through the racks of the clothing store, “you find a second hand shop near the wealthy area. Rich people love to throw their clothes away, and you don’t want to miss out on that. Are you listening to everything I’m saying?”