John hopped off his old Harley Knucklehead, his combat boots sinking into the moist, dewy grass. He cursed, trying to push down the stuck kickstand as it refused to part with the rusted metal body of the motorcycle. The bike was aged and corroded, but still sprinting on every drop of fuel that John fed it with. It was the only thing he had ever truly loved.
Sneakily, he crept through the vast garden. It was surrounded by a heavy, victorian-style iron fence; the gate carelessly left unlocked. The lawn was freshly cut and unnaturally green. To his right, a large stone birdbath in the shape of an angel stood beneath the towering curtain of a willow tree.
John grabbed a handful of pebbles from the garden bordering the tall house. The colours of the flowers were bright and distinguishable, even in the darkness of midnight. He tossed a single rock at the highest window on the shingled mansion, missing by a few inches. Shit, John thought to himself. Obviously, Claire would have the largest house he had ever laid eyes on. Her father pissed away more many than he knew what to do with. He scowled at the pathetic reality as he chucked two more pebbles against the glass paynes.
After a few long seconds, the velvet curtains were pushed aside by Claire's dainty hands. Her image filled the window. She looked as if she was a totally different person without her usual prissy clothes and face caked with pounds of makeup. Her cherry hair wasn't smoothly curled, but a frizzy tumbleweed atop her head and her eyes were dark and bare. She wore nothing but an ivory silk nightgown and a confused expression.
"Claire!" John shouted up to her.
Harshly, she brought a finger to her full lips before cracking open her window slightly. "Shut up! You'll wake my parents."
John smirked. "I'm sure Daddy dearest would be happy to see me." Claire raised her middle finger to him in disgust. He dramatically slapped his palms to his chest and descended to his knees. "Why Claire, you've wounded me."
She scowled. "You are so full of it. What the hell are you doing here anyway?"
John rose from the wet ground. "Listen Princess," he began as he casually swiped the dirt off of his ripped Levis. "Don't let this stroke your little ego too hard, but I actually came to see you."
"Oh yeah, well you're seeing me right now. What do you want?" She snapped.
He glanced over at his beat up, oxidized Harley and then back at Claire's annoyed face. "Come down here and I'll show you."
"No way in hell!"
"Aww, what's the matter?" He oustretched his arms. "Scared?"
To John's surprise, Claire snorted in amusement. "Of you? Keep dreaming. I can just think of much better things to do with my Saturday night than follow you to God knows where."
John stroked his stubbly chin. "Really? Because I can't seem to think of any."
Claire scowled. "You really are one egotistical, rotten son of a bitch, you know that?"
"The best one around, Claire." He smiled an arrogant crooked smile, flashing his perfect white teeth. "Listen, I'd love to stay and admire the view of your...charming estate, but I've got a case of beer and I'm getting away for the night. Somewhere quiet where I don't have to deal with anyone else's bullshit. I thought you might be interested. Coming?"
Claire hesitated, running a hand through her mess of fiery hair. For a moment, she pondered why John would want her to come with him. Had their kiss after detention really meant anything to him? Of course not, she thought. This was the guy that had a wallet full of girls he would casually screw. He didn't have romantic feelings; he was incapable of them. Then why did he want to spend any time with her? Curiosity overtook her and finally, she fully opened her window and swung her leg over the ledge. "I'm coming."