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MidReal Story
Ride or Die
Scenario:this story is in the year of 2017 in toronto ontario canada and a story about bad boy and good girl and true love and confidence and popularity and lies and cheating and parties and alcohol and drug use and deals and high school and race and street race and drama and sex and adventure and nudity and bad boy and good girl story and my name is mohamed abdi and i am 16 years old a player and bad boy and my parents abdinur is a business man and he is 39 years old and my mother layla abdi is 37 years old and i have dark skinand muscular body and i wear a leather jacket and i am the popular king of this high school and everyone in this town loves and cares about street race and drag race and i am the best and i want to be a future nascar professional racer and i have many friends and i have been with many girls and i am self-assuredness and charm, making them seem magnetic and captivating and i tend to defy rules and social norms, which can be seen as rebellious and exciting and i exhibit narcissistic tendencies, such as a strong sense of self-importance and a need for attention and then this new girl just started in my highschool as a freshman and her name is monica hoang and she is 17 years old and she is innocent and a virgin and she has a boring boyfriend named brian thompson who studies and never goes to parties and i am a sophomore and me and monica are the main characters and the protagonists and this storys name is ride or die
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Mohamed Abdi
He is the popular high school king in a wealthy Toronto neighborhood. He is rebellious, selfassured, and charismatic. He comes from a wealthy family with a father who owns several restaurants. Mohamed enjoys parties, girls, and racing cars. He has a fascination with speed and often participates in street racing. Despite his bad boy image, he has a deep respect for his parents and values their influence. He struggles with the desire to become a future NASCAR professional driver while also attending high school in Oakville, Canada.
Monica Hoang
She is a new freshman high school student in Oakville, Canada. She is innocent, shy, and sweet. Monica comes from a Vietnamese background and is new to the area, having moved from Pickering. She is friends with Mohamed Abdi and finds herself drawn to him despite his bad boy reputation. Monica is curious about high school life and quickly becomes part of Mohamed's social circle. She struggles with selfconfidence and is often influenced by those around her, including Mohamed.
This story is in the year of 2017.
I am 16 years old.
My name is Mohamed Abdi.
I am a player and a bad boy.
My dad's name is Abdinur Abdi.
He is 39 years old.
My mom's name is Layla Abdi.
She is 37 years old.
I have dark skin and a muscular body.
I wear a leather jacket.
I am the popular king of this high school.
Everyone in this town loves and cares about street racing and drag racing.
I am the best and I want to be a future NASCAR professional driver.
I have many friends and I have been with many girls.
I am self-assured, charming, and magnetic, which makes all the girls love me and want me so badly.
I tend to defy rules and social norms, which makes me seem rebellious and exciting to them.
Sometimes, I am selfish, arrogant, and entitled, which makes them see me as sexy and hot.
I walk through the crowded school hallway, my leather jacket drawing admiring glances.
Girls whisper and giggle, some boldly handing me their numbers.
Guys nod in respect or envy, hoping to catch my attention.
I spot Monica Hoang and her boyfriend Brian Thompson in the school cafeteria.
They sit in a quiet corner, away from the noisy crowd.
I approach their table, my leather jacket catching Monica's eye.
Brian looks up, his expression turning wary as he recognizes me.
"Hey, I'm Mohamed," I say, flashing a confident smile.
Monica smiles shyly, intrigued by my boldness.
Brian's hand tightens on hers, signaling his discomfort.
"Want to come to a party this weekend?" he asks.
Monica hesitates, glancing at Brian.
He shakes his head firmly.
"We're not interested," he says, pulling Monica closer.
I linger at their table, maintaining eye contact with Monica while ignoring Brian's obvious discomfort.
The cafeteria buzzes with activity around us, but I focus solely on her reaction.
My fingers drum against their table as I pull out my phone.
"I'm going to give you my number," I say, typing my digits into a new contact.
"Just in case you change your mind."
Monica's eyes widen as I slide the phone toward her.
Brian's face reddens, but he remains silent.
Monica picks up the phone with trembling fingers and enters her number quickly, nervously glancing at Brian.
Before she can hand it back, Brian snatches the phone from her grasp.
"Give it back," I demand, my voice low and firm.
Brian hesitates, then reluctantly hands the phone over.
"Why are you so interested in Monica?" Brian asks, his voice tinged with frustration.
I smirk, leaning back slightly. "Maybe it's because I see something in her that you don't."
Monica looks between us, her voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean by that?"
I maintain eye contact with her, ignoring Brian's growing anger beside her.
The noise of the cafeteria fades into the background as I lean in, invading their space.
My leather jacket brushes against the edge of the table.
Brian's hand tightens on Monica's shoulder, but she doesn't pull away.
Instead, she tilts her head slightly, her dark hair falling forward to frame her face.
Her scent—a mix of vanilla perfume and something uniquely hers—fills my senses.
I move closer, my voice dropping to a whisper as I speak directly into her ear.
"You deserve more than this."
Her eyes widen, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.
At Logan's party, I lean against the wall, my leather jacket and black boots making me stand out among the crowd.
The music pulses around us, a lively mix of hip-hop and electronic beats that draws everyone to the dance floor.
I watch as Monica enters with Brian, his button-down shirt and khaki pants starkly contrasting with the casual attire of the other partygoers.
Brian looks out of place, his eyes scanning the room with discomfort.
Monica seems hesitant as well, but she's dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a fitted top that catches my attention.
I push off from the wall and make my way toward them, my movements fluid and confident.
"Hey there," I greet them, my voice carrying over the music.
Monica smiles shyly, while Brian's expression turns guarded.
"Want a drink?"
I ask her, ignoring Brian's obvious disapproval.
Monica hesitates for a moment before nodding.
I lead her to the makeshift bar set up in the corner of the room.
The bartender, a friend of Logan's, greets me with a nod.
"What can I get you?"
I order a beer for myself and a mixed drink for Monica.
As we wait for our drinks, Brian lingers behind us, his eyes fixed on Monica with an unspoken possessiveness. "So, what do you think of the party?"
I ask Monica once we have our drinks in hand.
She takes a sip of her drink nervously before answering.
"It's... different," she admits, her eyes darting around the room.
I chuckle softly, knowing exactly what she means.
"Yeah, it's not your usual scene," I agree.
"But sometimes it's good to step out of your comfort zone."
Monica nods slightly, her gaze drifting back to Brian who stands by himself near the entrance.
"I guess you're right," she says quietly.
I follow her gaze and notice Brian's scowl deepening as he watches us interact.
I turn my attention back to Monica, determined to make her forget about him for now.
"Come on," I say, gesturing toward the beer pong table set up in another corner of the room. "Let's join in."
Monica hesitates for a moment but eventually follows me to the table where several people are already engaged in a heated game of beer pong.
I introduce her to everyone and explain the rules if she doesn't know them already. We join in just as a new round is about to start.
I set up the beer pong cups while Monica fidgets with the ping pong ball, glancing between me and Brian who's still sulking by the door.
The crowd forms around our table, placing bets on the game.
I demonstrate the throwing motion, stepping close behind Monica to guide her arm.
She tenses at first but relaxes as I explain the technique.
When she steps up to take her shot, the party goes quiet.
The ball arcs perfectly, splashing into the front cup.
The crowd erupts in cheers.
Monica's eyes light up at her success, and for the first time tonight, she doesn't look back at Brian.
Brian's departure from the party goes unnoticed, swallowed by the crowd's cheers.
Watching Monica's face light up from her victory, I lead her through the crowd toward the drink station.
She walks closer to me than necessary, her shoulder occasionally brushing against my arm.
At the makeshift bar, I mix her a lighter drink, showing off my bartending skills by flipping bottles and making her giggle.
The party's bass thumps around us as Monica leans against the counter, completely at ease now that Brian's gone.
I hand her the drink, our fingers touching longer than needed.
She takes a slow sip, maintaining eye contact over the rim of the cup.
The night stretches on, and with each shared glance, the distance between us shrinks.
I lean against the kitchen counter, watching Monica dance to the music with her eyes closed.
The party's chaos fades into the background as I focus on her carefree movements.
She sways to the beat, her hips moving in a way that captivates me.
As if sensing my gaze, she opens her eyes and meets my stare.
But instead of looking away, she continues dancing, moving closer to where I stand.
The dim lights cast shadows across her face, accentuating her features.
She takes another sip of her drink, never breaking eye contact.
"Are you going to keep watching me all night?"
Monica asks, her voice barely audible over the music.
My usual confidence wavers for a moment before I regain my composure.
"I'm just enjoying the view," I reply, my voice steady.
Monica raises an eyebrow, challenging my response.
"Then why don't you join me?"
She takes another step closer, our bodies almost touching. Before I can react, Monica stumbles slightly, catching herself on my arm.
I instinctively place my hand on her waist to steady her.
She looks up at me with a genuine smile that hits me differently than any other girl's has before.
I steady her until she regains her balance, but my hands linger on her waist longer than necessary.
The bass thumps through the floorboards as Monica places her hands on my shoulders, swaying to the music.
The other partygoers fade into background noise.
Her vanilla scent mingles with the alcohol on her breath as she moves closer, her body pressing against mine.
The dim kitchen lights cast shadows across her flushed face.
When the song changes to a slower beat, I guide her hips in time with mine.
She follows my lead without hesitation, her fingers gripping my leather jacket.
The connection between us solidifies, leaving no room for doubt.
I lean down, my lips brushing against her ear.
She tilts her head up, our eyes meeting.
The music swirls around us, but I focus solely on her.
I press my lips against hers, and she kisses me back for a moment before suddenly pushing against my chest and stepping back.
Her eyes widen with panic as she touches her lips.
"No Mohamed, you can't kiss me. Brian is my boyfriend," she says, her voice trembling.
She turns and rushes toward the front door.
I watch as she disappears into the night, the darkness swallowing her whole.
The room feels colder without her presence, and I stand there, stunned.
My heart races as I try to process what just happened.
I hear footsteps behind me, and a voice cuts through the music.
I stare at the kitchen doorway where Monica disappeared, my hands still tingling from holding her.
Jake's footsteps approach from behind me, and I clench my jaw, not wanting to discuss what just happened.
The bass from the living room speakers vibrates through the floor as Jake slides a cold beer into my hand.
He leans against the counter beside me, waiting.
I take a long drink, the alcohol burning my throat.
When Jake mentions seeing Brian's car parked down the street, I grip the bottle tighter.
The possibility that he witnessed our dance makes my stomach turn.