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“Hey,” one girl cries out, as she stumbles on her heels.
“Move, bitch,” I roar, and her friends quickly jump out of my way.
The guy turns and spots me, giving me a serious look. “Whoa, calm down, man,” he says, offering a slight chuckle. “You can’t win them all,” he jests.
I reach out and shove him in his rock-hard chest. Of course, he has a solid wall of muscle that feel chiseled like he’s some Greek god brought down to earth. I loathe him already.
Tearing off my helmet, I allow my long, blonde hair to fall out of the messy ponytail I had tucked it in. The guy's eyes go wide as he realizes that I am a girl. More people begin to crowd around us, waiting and watching to see what happens next. This isn’t the first time that I have swung on a guy, but never has some wealthy prick from the nicer part of Savannah ever ventured down to our turf.
“What the hell?” he asks, taking a step back.
He seems unfazed by my shove, but seeing as he is nothing more than muscle, that is to be expected.
“Do you think this is some type of joke?” I scream out to him.
“Hey, Stella. Calm down,” I hear Tank yell, as he walks over to us.
He’s holding a stack of money in his hand, and I wince as I think about how that was supposed to be my earnings tonight.
A few guys around us chuckle and whistle, but none dare to intervene. They know that I don’t put up with their shit.
“What is your problem?” the guy asks again. He licks his lips as he looks me up and down.
“My problem?” I roar out, throwing my hands up in the air. “You don’t belong here. That money should be mine,” I state angrily.
The guy laughs and his hair bounces around his face. “Last I checked, this was a free country. I came here to race just like you did. Don’t be angry that the better man...I mean person, won,” he smirks.
Lava fills me and all I see is red hot rage as I stare him down. Everything about him stands out here. From his designer jeans to his red Polo shirt. He screams money and cockiness and judgement.
“Why can’t you just stay on your side of town?” I yell again.
I throw off my helmet and the guy’s eyes go wide like saucers. For a moment, he is stunned as he realizes he just raced against a girl.
“Oh shit, you are a chick,” he says, more to himself than to anyone else. The humor filling his features only intensifies the raging anger brewing deep inside of me.
“Hell yeah, I’m a girl. I should have won that race, but you showed up on your super expensive bike and didn’t play fair,” I screech.
“Stella, you really need to calm down,” Tank says, stepping in front of me.
“Did you hear how she is yelling at him? Doesn’t she know who he is?” I hear someone whisper behind me. Fear laces their voice and I take just a second to think that over.
Spinning, I eye the crowd, looking for the source of the words. Why would I give two shits who this guy is? Just because he has money, doesn’t mean he is anyone important.
“She’s fine. Let her be pissed. I won this race, and I did it fairly.I didn’t do anything underhanded,” the guy explains.
“You don’t understand, I needed to win that race. I needed that money,” I shout back at him.
He stares back at me. A blank expression blankets his chiseled face. Why is he so gorgeous? It’s almost unfair.
“I don’t come from wealth like you do,” I snap. “I have bills to pay. I owe people money and that money that you just lost me...” I couldn’t even think about what would happen if I didn’t find a way to get a thousand dollars. A shiver runs through me, and he watches me with careful precision.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” he snaps back at me.
I don’t expect the anger resonating from his voice, and I feel my legs shake under the wrath in his eyes.
“Obviously, she has no clue who he is, or she wouldn’t be yelling like that,” another person says from the crowd.
Now, I am beyond infuriated and a tad bit curious. Why are people talking about him as though I should know who he is? Is this guy some celebrity?
