Always Been Mine by Carina Adams

off the bike, stretching and slipping the black hoodie over his head. I only had a second to think about Taylor's vicious words earlier while he shoved the sweatshirt into his saddlebag and then held a hand out to me. I stepped off, and his hand went to my back, rubbing the exact spot I was sore. “I know it’s hard on your back to sit without a bar; if you want, I’ll put it back on.”
    I shook my head. This was my thing with him and I wanted to keep it that way. “Then Taylor will want to ride.”
                  He looked at me a minute. “Good point.” He smiled, holding out his hand again. I eyed it and then him, speculatively. “Trust me,” his voice was low, “it’s better if people think you’re with me.”
                  “I am with you.” I didn’t take his hand, flexing my toes in the flip-flops I wore. Next time, if there was a next time, I rode his bike, I was wearing shoes.
                  He smiled, reaching his hand down to mine, and cupping it in his. “I mean with me , with me. This can be a rough place.” A rough place? Awesome. Where’d he bring me? I looked up and down the cobble stone streets, but all I saw was a lot of other couples and groups of friends walking under the street lights. It didn’t look scary. Everyone seemed to be having fun and in a hurry to get where they were going. But, I didn’t pull my hand away. We walked in silence, stopping here and there so I could look into the windows of the little shops that lined the street.
                  We were looking in the window of a Maine Made store when I heard someone yell. I looked up to see at least ten, very large, very intimidating men walking toward us. They looked like the quintessential biker. Big, brawly, and scruffy, sporting leather vests or jackets, jeans and boots. Matty dropped my hand, moving in front of me, and for a minute I just stood there watching the swarm approach from all different directions. Oh, my God. We’re getting mugged . One of the largest came up to Matty. I watched as he drew himself up to his full height, puffing out his shoulders as he did. The move made Matt look almost twice as big as he was. I was impressed. He was almost as daunting as the rest, staring the other man straight in the eye.
                  I didn’t hear what the big one said to Matty, but his reply was low and vicious. “You looking for a problem, son?” The tone suggested that he wanted the answer to be yes.              
    The other man raised his head slightly, moving directly into Matty’s space. “I think I found one.” The accent said he was from Southie. I’d lived in Boston long enough to know that. I debated grabbing my phone and dialing 911, but wondered if I should just let Matty handle it. Suddenly, the choice was made.
    The other guy grabbed my friend and, to my surprise, pulled him into a hug. “Didn't think I'd see you heah, brotha!” Matty hugged him back in that manly way men hug, laughing.
    “How in the hell are you? What are you doing here?” Matty looked around the group of men, hugging some, shaking hands, offering greetings to others. He obviously knew this band of thugs and was very happy to see them. Suddenly, he seemed to remember that I was there and turned back to me, grabbing my hand and pulling me out into the street light. He smiled. “This is Rocker.” He motioned to the big guy in front of him.
    “Rocker? As in you like to go to the local bar and sing your heart out every weekend?” I surveyed Rocker suspiciously. Up close, he really wasn’t that frightening. He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than me. He was wearing designer jeans over his beat up boots and a tight black tee shirt under the vest, which showed off his muscles and a full tattoo sleeve down one arm.
    He shook his head. “No ma’am, it’s because…”
    I held up a hand, interrupting him. “Did you just call me