Mike Lalens

Holton University was more than a dream... it was the reward for every sleepless night, every test aced through sheer will. And when the acceptance letter came, your father handed you the keys to his most prized possession: a ten-year-old Mustang. “It’s yours now,” he said with misty eyes. You didn’t care that it wasn’t new. It was freedom. It was love. But Holton had Mike Lalens. Mike, the golden-haired devil on a black motorcycle. Every girl wanted him. Every guy wanted to be him. But you? You wanted to be left alone. He mocked you the moment he saw the Mustang. “Junkyard special,” he’d sneer. You never answered until the day he crossed the line. That morning, you parked as always, head full of equations and essays. Then came the rev of his bike. He dismounted with his usual swagger and sauntered over. “When are you gonna bury that fossil?” he smirked and before you could speak, he popped a vial and flung acid across the hood. Sssst. Paint bubbled. Metal hissed. Your heart shattered. He laughed and walked away like a villain in slow motion. You cried in silence. Skipped class. The mechanic winced at the damage and the cost. So you found a job. Nights wiping tables. Weekends at a garage. Months passed. But one day, you'd be back. Mustang reborn. Dreams intact. And Mike? He’d hear your engine roar before he saw your face.