1. Beautiful Bastard

Emara Stone

The wind fiercely flows through my hair like showing its aggressive powers.

But to me, it felt like a gentle kiss of a lover. I close my eyes and feel it tickle on my skin as it brush pass my cheeks.

I unfold my arms and spread it out in the open, letting the wind untame my wings like it did to my braid. My hair floats like music cords in the air, playing along with the icy breeze, creating a song that-

• Screeeeech *

“FUCK!” I scream in pain as my nose hits the hard helmet head in front of me, sending jolts of aching sparks all over my face. Ouch. Bitch. Ouch!

“What the hell was that?” Ethan barks as he takes out his helmet and checks for any damage. This son of a biscuit!

“My nose hit your stupid helmet when you pulled the brakes out of nowhere.” I yell with a throbbing nose.

“Well, that’s what people do when they reach their destination.” Ethan yaps as he hops out of the motorbike, almost hitting my face again.

This lil dick!

“Stop being so dramatic. With or without a nose, you still look gay to me.” He comments after looking at my majestic face.

“We have the same features, silly ass.” I scowl in return. Audacity of this bish!

Ethan is just a minute older than me, but we are nowhere similar. He is like the descendent of Einstein, whereas I am like Lady Gaga, too weird to describe.

"We got late again. Shit!" Ethan curses under his breath and jogs towards the university building. What a nerd!

I tie my tangled static hair and bury them under the cap of my hoodie. I am so skilled at changing looks that I can dress up like anyone, even as a man and no one would ever come to know of it.

Wow! Nice plot. I could write a story on it.

I look around the campus. Instagram beauties are updating their morning selfies and replying to their hungry followers who masturbated on their night selfie. Their eyeliner, mascara, contour, and glossy straight hair are styled flawlessly like a beauty filter.

I pull out M&M’s from my pocket and pop some in my mouth as I wonder at what time do they wake up to groom themselves, probably five in the morning?

And here I came without a shower.

I massage my helmet-punched nose as I walk to the stationary to buy a pen. The number of people I see around me, makes me want to pray to the almighty to set my college on fire.

Let the fire burn all my test papers and data of my past exam records along with the sadist teachers who love to torture students.

Amen!

The surrounding crowd subdues, knowing the first lecture has begun and here I am wandering clumsily without any passion to attend the class or even to graduate.

Suddenly, I hear a roar, so powerful that it made me skip some of my heartbeats to call it a heart attack. I turn around and see a charcoal black big SUV rolling on its thick black tires like it owes the campus road.

There is a shiny Devil's trident on the car as its logo and I remember someone called it Maserati. The car once again roars as it stops in the parking lot two spots away from our bike.

The door opens and the beauty queen of our college, every guy's dream girl, Rose Damison walks out.

Her long shiny hair flows in the wind in an enchanting way, something that I can only imagine with my hair. Her leather skirt is stuck to her thighs possessively, and on top, the red jacket screams about her all rich-rich and out of reach.

Rose is built. She has long legs, a small waist, an hourglass figure, and a face like Hollywood beauty. She says something to the driver and closes the door behind her leisurely.

I watch her in awe as she tucks a lock behind her ears in slow motion and walks past me in a hurry. Her baby powder smell lingers behind her as she jogs on her heels to the building.

I look down and see my faded jeans brown sneakers that were white once upon a time. Don't! Don't even think of comparing yourself with her. You didn't even shower.

The sound of engine goes down and I look back. Suddenly, my heart beats like a church's bell, loud and clear as I see him..

The beautiful bastard.

Ryan Damison.