I see an angel, wearing a tight-fitting cream top and a mini flare black skirt, walking towards the gate of our school. An evil plan makes me steer the scooter in her direction.

Swoosh!

There goes her skirt flaring up, giving me a glimpse of her black shorty underwear.

"Fuck you!"

That's the most angelic profanity I have ever heard.

"I did!" I smirk.

"Rapist!"

That's the most evil word I have ever heard from an angel. I stop abruptly and then turn around. "What did you say?" I look around as gasps reach my fucking ears. I scoot in front of the accuser.

"You raped me." Her voice is now softer, as she realises that she catches the attention of the other students.

"Rape?" I chuckle nervously. "I never force someone to spread their legs for me." My lips curve into a smirk. "I will never forget how beautiful you were when you climaxed and smiled at me."

"Asshole!" A light blush appears on her cheeks. "I was drunk and horny. I never said yes. Heck, I will never sleep with you if I am sober," she says with so much disgust in her voice. I've never known that an angel's words hurt as hell until now.

"N-no, don't say that," I stammer, "We've been good since that night, right?" I say, masking the ache from my chest. Hurting her is the last thing I'll do. Am I fucking stupid to assume that we have made a progress after that night?

"No. I still hate you. I hate you more for making me weak," she says, hitting my chest with her fists. "The sex with you was...was the worst." She takes a step forward.

Is she running away again? I step forward as well to stop her.

"Angel —"

"Don't call me that!" she seethes.

"Mikayla, am I really that evil in your eyes?"

"A leader of the White Coast gang. A 20-year old who should have finished high school last year, but is still in high school. A guy who wears a black leather jacket and black boots," she pauses to breathe, "riding the fastest scooter in the world without a care. A player who fucks all the girls that come to him." Her gaze lands on my arms. "Lots of tattoos and oh a druggie...what do you think?"

She could have said, definitely a devil on a scooter. I stare at her angelic face longer, speechless. She looks at me briefly, probably waiting for my response. When she doesn't hear anything, she sidesteps and walks past me.

I utter a silent curse before turning around. "Mikayla, I didn't rape you. Please don't think I did. I will never do that to you or to anyone. For you, that night was the worst. For me, that was the best."

I hear her gasps but she doesn't turn around nor say something. She continues walking instead.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," I say, taking a deep breath. "I'm so sorry if you feel violated. Are you going to file a case against me?"

She peers over her shoulder and says, "I don't know. Just leave me alone."

I release a shaky breath as I watch her walk away. My angel hates me a lot to think that the night we'd shared, the best night of my life, was a fucking crime. That's probably the reason why she left before I even woke up and avoided me since then.

I kick the ground hard, feeling the friction even though the sole of my black boots is thick. I ride my scooter as fast as it can, away from the school. I'm not in the mood for lectures.

"Hey!"

"Watch out, mate!"

"Asshole!"

People on the sidewalk shout at me but I don't care.

"a guy who always wears black leather jacket and black boots, riding the fastest scooter in the world without a care..."

Mikayla's voice echoes in my head

without a care...

without a care!

I step lightly on the brake to slow down, careful not to steer too close to the people. Whether it's to prove to Mikayla that I'm not that bad or something else, one thing is sure – she's cutting the devil's horn. Fuck! How could she do that with just her words? 

I turn toward the quiet White Coast beach. The white sand and the seawater are glistening under the sun. I park the scooter beside the bench along the walkway and throw my backpack on the ground.

Popping a can of Furphy lager beer brings back the memories when the vampire me flirted with the most angelic devil, named Mikayla Willford who tripped and fell into my lap at a Halloween party last year. Unfortunately, the devil hated the vampire and told him to GFY.

I drink down the can entirely as a memory of her kissing a guy in the bar pops into my mind. This week, she is frequently seen either in the bar or at parties, getting drunk. Sometimes too toxic to realise that men are taking advantage of her. Most of the time, I pulled the guy away from her, dragged her outside and deposited her in the cab.

I become a fucking stalker slash bodyguard. Heroic deeds deserve a hefty reward, right? But the meaning of reward in my Angel's dictionary is kicking my legs, hitting my chest and arms, and throwing curses on my face. It also doesn't mean a single thank you or even a shorter 'Ta'.

Mikayla has an angelic face and straight dirty blonde hair. When she sings, her voice can calm the raging seas. Apart from that, she's a stained glass artist. I've been stalking her Instagram account with all the stained glass arts she has made. I even bought the Angel Suncatcher which I hang on my window. What she's doing now is totally the opposite of her – she's becoming like me.

She's the angel in my hell. I protect her from any danger but I am also the danger. Ironic. How absurd. I shouldn't love someone like her, but when did I ever choose the easy ones? She's the only girl I ever wanted. Sadly, she hates me to the bones.

"I don't like bad boys. You're a gang leader and that's the worst."

Those were the exact words she said when I asked her for a short coffee break. Just coffee, not dinner.

"What do we have here?"

A mocking rude voice breaks my thoughts. I look up to see Jacob, the leader of the Black Coast gang, and four more gang members in their signature black T-Shirt and denim jacket. I move my gaze to the sea, ignoring their presence. I'm not in the mood to entertain them.

"Rude." I heard a guy say.

"Cutting classes, huh. High school forever?"

All the guys laugh, mocking at my delayed educational attainment. I crush the second can of beer using my bare hands and throw it inside the recycle bin on the right side of the bench. I open the last can and sip the almost warm beer, still ignoring them.

"Not in the mood, Jarrod. Did the pretty girl reject you again?" Jacob continues to rile me up. "I heard she's an easy, cheap girl who jumps at anyone with a dick. But damn! She's hot." I feel the rush of anger that the next thing we all see is the flying empty can of Furphy, heading to the asshole's face. Before the fucker can dodge it, it lands right on the spot where a band-aid is protecting his cuts. Blood gushes out of it and from his nose.

"Bullseye," I say.

As they get busy wiping Jarrod's blood flowing like a faucet, I grab my scooter and flee.

"You're gonna pay for this!" Jacob yells angrily and I just give them the middle finger.

###

Hi! Welcome to Bad Boy on Scooter's first chapter. Did you like it?

Do you agree that Mikayla can think that Jarrod raped her?

Just to be clear, rape is a sensitive topic for me as well. So hopefully, I didn't offend anyone. I don't support drugs and gangs and I'm not one to go to parties and bars while still in high school or college. I write what I think can be seen outside my life. Haha. Scenes and characters may be realistic, but this story is a fictional one.

Thank you for reading. I hope you stay with Jarrod and Mikayla 'til the end.

:-) Alya :-)