Biker's Virgin

“Well, at least I’m not gonna fail this semester, Chris,” I countered, frustrated. “Can you say the same… bro?” I grabbed my books and stuffed them into a backpack. Moments later, I stormed past Chris and Ciara, slamming the door behind me.

It was the fifth night in a row he was getting smashed and I couldn't take it anymore. I'd been doing my best to work hard and focus on my studies—and avoid drinking—but Chris just didn't seem to care at all. He had been nothing but inconsiderate and self-absorbed. All he cared about was partying and bringing girls over. And, the look on his face was proof that he knew that he was going to fail the semester. He just didn't give a damn.

I shook my head as I made my way down the stairwell. I had to do something about my situation. Chris obviously wasn't going to change his ways. Which meant it was up to me to figure out a solution to my growing problem. I just didn’t know what that should be, but something had to give.

The question was... was it time to move out?

It was a heavy thought. Chris and I had been best friends since I could remember. We just seemed to be growing further and further apart. For the sake of my sanity—and my grades—moving out might be my best option.

As I climbed onto my bike and strapped on my helmet, I hoped I could find a solution that would allow me to keep my grades up and salvage my friendship with Chris, but I was beginning to have serious doubts about that.

With these thoughts swirling around my head, I started the bike up and sped off toward the library.

***

I woke up early the next morning and headed out for a jog, hoping to get five miles in before it got too hot and get back in time to get ready for my ten o'clock class. While I was running, I thought about what Chris and Ciara had said, calling me an old man. It made me realize that I had actually done quite a bit of growing up in the past few months. But being stuck in old patterns, and being stuck with people who didn't share my same vision for moving forward, was holding me back.

Chris, Melissa, and the party crew.

It wasn't that I disliked them. Chris was still one of my best buds. It's just that our goals had diverged and we were heading down different paths in life. I'd gotten over my partying phase, but Chris was still very firmly stuck in his. I didn’t intend to quit partying altogether. I mean, I still wanted to go out and have fun. Just not every night of the week. And only when I had done everything I needed to do for school.

Not to mention, I didn't feel like there was much point in going out to clubs anymore. I couldn’t explain exactly why, but I was no longer interested in chasing girls. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that there was only one girl on my mind these days. And with a girl like her on my mind, there wasn't room for any other girls. Especially not airheads like Melissa.

Lost in my thoughts, I rounded my last corner and arrived back in front of the apartment building. When I paused for a breather before going up to take a shower, I noticed the elderly superintendent Jenkins was having a cigarette. I walked over to say hi.

“Hey, Jenkins.”

“Emerson. Good to see ya,” he growled in his gravelly smoker's voice.

“How's life?” I asked.

“Eh, I can't complain, I guess, although my back's been givin' me some issues. You?”

“All's good with me. Sorry to hear about your back, though.”

He shrugged. “These things happen when you're old. Nothin' you can do 'bout it but accept it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I chuckled.

“I'm too ancient t' be running around like a young buck like you. These bones a' mine, they're old an' creaky!”

I laughed.

Jenkins smiled, but then his face took on a serious expression. “Hey, you know those two new dames who moved in next to you?”

“Brooke and Leslie, yeah?”

“They was walkin' out earlier, an' I overheard 'em bitchin' about the noise comin' from your place. One of 'em was real keen on calling the cops.”

“Really? Which one?”

“My eyes ain't too good, and neither are my ears. I couldn't tell which one was talkin' 'bout it. But it don't matter. You two better watch y’selves. I know you two like your beer, an' I also know you two are underage. You wouldn't want them cops comin' in your place. That'll get ya in all sorts a' trouble.”

“Alright, Jenkins,” I said. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem, kiddo. Just take it easy with the noise now, y'hear?”

“Yeah, I got ya. Thanks. I gotta go. Hope your back feels better.”