Dimitris

August 29.
I guess the forbidden boy isn’t as bad as people judge him to be after all. I think, deep down, there’s a good part of him amid all the chaos and darkness. Or maybe this is just an illusion in my head.
Speed was my biggest source of endorphins. It was what numbed my pain, what blocked the hatred and anger that seemed to permeate me twenty-four hours a day. No medication, no illegal drugs, absolutely nothing had that power. Even though I also used those other means. Because the days were long, and as much as I wished I could ignore them and go straight to the nights and early mornings, that was something I couldn’t do yet.
Our competitions usually happened three to four nights a week, always starting around eleven o’clock with no set end time. Often, we would see the sunrise amid the races. The location was a vast empty lot that belonged to my family and had been unused for years. The rough terrain with its slopes made it perfect for what we did. All we needed to do was install ramps and a grandstand.
It was completely illegal, especially due to the high stakes gambling, drug use, and occasional presence of minors – although none of them were allowed to participate in the races. However, it attracted a diverse audience, including politicians, police officers, and wealthy and influential businessmen. This, combined with the fact that I was a wealthy heir myself, made the authorities turn a blind eye to what was going on there, even though the whole city knew very well what was happening.
That night, I once again emerged victorious. However, it was by a narrow margin, and I had to give credit to the absence of my most skilled opponents – Heber and Zoe. They were apparently pissed off because I didn’t support their stupid and childish bullying of the foreign girl that afternoon. I was already an idiot in too many aspects of my life. I didn’t need to add another to the list.
Anyway, I was a bit distracted that night, so several of my motorcycle stunts had flaws. What earned me the win was my Backflip Superman. I managed to do a 360-degree backward spin, lifting my feet and kicking them behind me, a considerable distance from the motorcycle, holding onto the handlebars only with my hands. That earned me the points I needed for victory and pleased all the rich people who had bet high on me.

After that, I celebrated with a lot of alcohol and hallucinogens. So much that I didn’t even remember where I was—or how I ended up there—when my phone’s alarm went off next to my face in the morning.
Opening my eyes, I saw I was sharing a single bed with a girl I didn’t even know. Probably nothing had happened between us since we were both fully dressed—including my muddy boots. We must have passed out after all the drugs and drinking.
I sat up, feeling a headache, trying to get my bearings and analyze the environment. I was in the bottom bunk of a bunk bed—likely someone (or even two) was sleeping in the top bunk, as there were three others on the floor: a girl I didn’t know, and Simon and Nikio from the Free Bird group.
I managed to get up, still completely disoriented, and stumbled over to Simon, nudging him with my foot.
“Hey, man... where are we?” I asked.
“Let me sleep, damn it...” Simon grumbled in response.
I kicked him a bit harder, though not enough to hurt him.
“Where the hell are we?”
“We went to the girls’ dormitory, don’t you remember?” he grumbled again, without opening his eyes.
I didn’t know who these girls were, but it meant someone among us had the ‘brilliant’ idea to sleep in a university dorm room, which was against the rules and could lead to expulsion. It probably wouldn’t happen to us, but I’d have to use my name and family influence again—just another headache for me.
I looked at the time on my phone through the cracked screen (when had that happened? I’d bought that phone less than two months ago). It was already past seven, and I had an appointment in less than an hour.
And I definitely wasn’t in any condition for it. Besides the alcohol, I had probably overdone the drugs the night before. I needed something to wake me up.
I glanced at the coffee table that had been dragged to a corner of the room. On it, lines of cocaine were already set up for snorting.
I went over and bent down, ready to use the drug.
But then I remembered what I needed to do in an hour.
And I wouldn’t do that under the influence of cocaine. Definitely not.

“Coffee will have to do…” I muttered. I turned back to Simon. “Do you know where I left my bike?”
“At the arena,” he replied, more asleep than awake. ‘Arena’ was what we called the terrain where we held the competitions. “We came here in Nikio’s car.”
Perfect…
Here I was, suffering from a brutal hangover and on foot.
I used the bathroom in the room, washed my face, and took a look at my reflection in the mirror. Chaotic was the best way to describe me. I’d need a lot of caffeine to try to look even slightly alive.
I left the room, carefully checking both sides of the corridor to make sure there were no security guards around. I went down the stairs to the ground floor and left the women’s dorm, walking across the campus to a café.
I ordered a double espresso, which was quickly served, and started drinking while using my phone to order a ride. I was still staring at the screen when someone stopped next to me at the counter.
“A green juice, please.”
The female voice sounded vaguely familiar. I turned to look at her, recognizing the girl. She was the same one from the restaurant the day before. The one Zoe had overheard telling her story in the bathroom and then relayed to us as if it were something completely absurd.
Refugee… Half-Turkish… Adopted by a couple of friends in a workaround since it couldn’t be legally accepted by two women…
She was a walking, perfect target for all kinds of prejudice. Maybe that’s why she seemed to also be striving to be the perfect girl. Even though it was summer, she wore a turtleneck, leaving no room for any cleavage to show, along with slightly loose shorts that at least revealed part of her thighs. Additionally, she had a delicate way of speaking and even moving. Her brown hair was impeccably styled back into a ponytail with not a single strand out of place.
And, for heaven’s sake, who orders a green juice at that hour of the morning? Although I doubted there was ever a right time to order such a horrible drink.