Motorcycle Babe

TheFinalHowl

Raven

“Alright guys, last home football game before championships, which means we give them hell!” Coach roared.

The locker room erupted. Cheering, trash cans being slammed, cleats stomping against concrete—a total madhouse. It had been a hell of a season, easily one of our best. I only picked up football for the thrill of it and to give these guys an excuse to lay a hit on me. Hey, it’s not my fault half of them can't satisfy their girlfriends.

Brain, hush please. Head in the game.

Maybe I’d get lucky later with a certain cheerleader. Arielle and I’s extracurricular life wasn't what people assumed. It was mostly me taking care of her while I turned down anything in return. She’d tried initiating more plenty of times, but I always shut it down. The only time she’d gotten remotely close was at Daveon's party—an interesting night, to say the least.

Ever since then, Gabriella had done her absolute best to avoid me. She turned the other way in the halls, but I still caught her staring. Her looks were a weird mix: full of longing, like she was trying to pull a memory out of thin air, but confusion always won out. Yeah, I stared back too much. I didn't care. I’d been in love with her since freshman year, even if she couldn't remember a single piece of me.

I let out a quiet sigh, quickly masking it before any of my teammates could catch the c***k in my armor. As running back, I was crucial to our offense, even with Tyler pulling sly bullshit the second Coach turned his back. As quarterback, Tyler spent more time trying to get me injured or ruin my routes than actually running the plays.

“Don’t forget,” Coach barked, his eyes scanning the room before locking onto me, then shifting to Tyler. “The scout is in the stands today. Best behavior.”

I cracked a lazy smirk. I wasn't playing for a scout, but Tyler’s entire life depended on it. Golden boy needed that Division I scholarship, or daddy was going to be furious. I snickered under my breath. Tyler shot me a lethal look from across the room. I just winked at him, watching his jaw clench so hard a vein popped in his neck. He couldn't do a damn thing—not on best behavior.

“Alright, five minutes until we take the field,” Coach said before disappearing into his office.

My phone buzzed in my locker. A text and a photo from Arielle.

Hope this motivates you for tonight ;)

It was a shot of her in her cheer uniform, looking lethal.

Looking delicious, I texted back. Can't wait for halftime for a little taste.

She sent back a laughing emoji and a quick, We’ll see ;)

I tossed my phone onto my gym bag and grabbed my helmet. The dark paint was worn, the custom yellow decal showing the number 34—my dad’s number before he passed. I missed him every single day. I wished he could see me out here, but deep down, I knew he’d be crushed by the person I’d become.

“Loosen up, Rider. You look like you’re going to war,” a voice said behind me.

I turned to see Justin. He was one of Tyler’s main guys, but he didn't buy into his extreme bullshit. He was cool enough—one of the few guys on this roster who didn't look like he wanted to jump me in the showers.

“Not tense,” I smirked, strapping my chin guard. “Just ready to run my ass off.”

Justin chuckled, but the sound died in his throat as his eyes shifted past my shoulder. I turned around. Tyler was standing there, blocking the narrow walkway.

“Can I help you with something, Ty?” I asked, leaning against the lockers.

His eyes were bloodshot with fury, but he kept his voice dead level. “Nope. Absolutely nothing, lesbo.”

“Careful, Tye,” I mocked, leaning in close enough to smell his sweat. “Wouldn't want the scout to hear your homophobic slurs. No scholarship means Daddy might have to beat your ass himself.”

A few quiet snickers echoed through the room, but nobody stepped up. Nobody wanted to end up in the crossfire of our war. Tyler growled under his breath, forcing his hands into fists at his sides.

“Alright, move it out!” Coach yelled from the tunnel entrance.

“Rider, Erickson—lead us out.”

Tyler and I jogged to the front, intentionally slamming our shoulders together as we met at the doorway.

“Behave,” Coach warned.

“Ready sir,” I said, cracking my neck.

“Ready, Coach,” Tyler growled, cracking his knuckles.

“Let’s go take what’s ours!”

We burst through the tunnel, our flag-bearers leading the sprint. The stadium roared, bright floodlights cutting through the freezing mist. Pop Smoke’s Armed and Dangerous blew through the heavy stadium speakers, sending a wave of bass straight through my cleats. The student section was a sea of blue and gold. I caught Arielle at the front, high-kicking her pompoms into the air, shouting my name.

We tore through the paper banner at the 50-yard line as fog machines blasted. Across the turf, the Bears were waiting for us, looking like they wanted blood.

Bring it on, assholes.

“All rise for our national anthem,” the announcer's voice echoed.

I lined up on the sideline, resting my helmet on my hip as some high school soprano started singing. My mind instantly checked out. Home of the free, land of the brave... sure. Hard to care about a country that doesn't give a damn about half the people living in it.

“Captains to midfield for the coin toss,” the announcer called out.

Tyler and I walked out together, our cleats digging into the turf. The Bears’ captains stepped up to meet us. Their quarterback looked like he was thirty—tatted up, broad-shouldered, and scowling.

“You’re going down, Wolves,” their co-captain barked.

“Try us, Bears,” I replied, throwing up our signature wolf howl. Embarrassing? Sure. But it was part of the job.

“Alright, heads or tails, Wolves?” the referee asked, holding the silver coin.

Tyler smirked at their quarterback. “Seeing as the Bears are our guests... I say we go first.”

“Are you sure you’re a senior?” I cut in, eyeing their massive quarterback. “Or are you just some middle-aged guy who snuck away from his desk job to relive his glory days?”

The big guy took a step toward me, his chest puffing out. “Watch it. My team isn't going easy on you just because you’re a girl.”

“Oh, sweetie,” I smirked, taking a step closer. “I’ve got more stamina and testosterone than your whole bench combined.”

Their co-captain tried to push past, but the head ref held him back with a firm arm. “That’s enough. Heads or tails, Erickson?”

“Heads,” Tyler said.

“Which is what you won't be getting tonight,” I whispered under my breath.

Tyler side-eyed me, his teeth grinding so loud I could hear it through his mouthguard. The referee flipped the coin. It spun through the stadium lights and slapped into his palm.

“Tails. Bears’ ball to start.”

“Tough luck, Wolves,” their co-captain sneered. “Maybe next season.”

“We’ll be saying the same to you at the end of the fourth quarter,” I winked, backing away toward our huddle.

Forty minutes later, my lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass.

End of the first quarter. Score: 13 to 6, Bears. We were getting dragged on our own field. I slammed my helmet onto the turf and collapsed onto the bench, dumping half a water bottle over my head. Sweat stung my eyes as I looked past the field toward the bleachers.

Arielle was performing a cheer routine, barely breaking a sweat. As if sensing my eyes on her, she turned, catching my gaze. I winked, flashing a suggestive flick of my tongue. She instantly blushed, giggling as she turned back to her squad.

My eyes drifted higher into the crowd, skipping past the students cheering or making eyes at me, until they landed on the one person I actually wanted to see.

Gabriella was sitting beside Kyle. He was babbling away, gesturing wildly at the field, but she wasn't listening. She looked lost. Bored, distant, and carrying that heavy, broken look in her eyes. I wanted to march up those bleachers and demand to know what was going on in her head, but we weren't those people anymore. She didn't even know who I was.

“Rider!” Coach barked, snapping me out of my trance. “Get back in there!”

Another brutal thirty minutes smashed by. The horn finally blared for halftime.

Score: 20 to 14. We were closing the gap, but every single joint in my body was screaming. In the locker room, Coach was pacing the concrete floor like a caged animal.

“You sons of bitches look like you want to throw away championships!” he roared, slamming his clipboard against a locker. “Most of you are seniors! After this, it’s mediocre jobs and pathetic lives if you don't win this ring!”

I leaned my head back against the locker, closing my eyes to keep the world from spinning. My core was overheating, my muscles twitching from exhaustion.

“Rider! Are you even listening to me?”

I opened my eyes. Tyler was towering over me, his face red, sweat dripping off his chin.

“Not really,” I said softly, propping my muddy cleats up on the bench.

Tyler shoved my legs off the bench. I stood up instantly, getting nose-to-nose with him.

“Do you have a problem, Captain?”

“You’re damn right I have a problem!” he yelled, catching the attention of the whole room. “I’m sick of your pathetic lesbian attitude! You’re throwing this game for all of us!”

“Oh, I get it,” I smirked, leaning closer so only he could hear. “You’re mad because you can't satisfy a girl. Want a tip? Don't be a dick.”

Tyler pulled his fist back, his eyes completely wild. Justin lunged forward, grabbing Tyler’s arm before he could swing.

“Tye, leave it for the field!” Justin yelled.

The room was dead silent. Every guy on the team was watching us, hating me, wanting to see me get flattened. An idea flared in my brain—a stupid, desperate, beautiful idea.

I cleared my throat, turning to face the whole locker room.

“Listen up!” I shouted. “I know most of you hate my guts. So here’s the deal. Picture the guys on that opposing team are me. Picture the ball is your girl. Every ounce of hatred you have for me, throw it at them. Get us to the championship, and when the season’s over, I’ll let every single one of you take one free punch at my face. No payback.”

Silence stretched across the room. The guys looked at each other, processing the offer.

“Deal,” someone whispered from the back. Soon, nods of agreement rippled through the team.

I turned back to Tyler, holding out my hand. “What about you, Captain? I’ll give you two free hits. And you won't have to pull your punches.”

Tyler glared at my hand like it was a snake, then gripped it tight enough to crush my knuckles. “I was already picturing them as you. But hitting you for real? Deal.”

Before I could breathe, Coach called from his doorway: “Rider. My office. Now.”

Inside, a middle-aged woman in a sharp gray blazer was waiting next to Coach’s desk.

“Rider, this is Carol Knight,” Coach said, his tone unusually forced. “She’s the scout from state.”

The woman offered a crisp smile. “You have exceptional vision on the field, Ms. Rider. The kind of raw instincts our program is looking to fund with a full scholarship.”

I froze. Car screech in my head.

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, laughing dryly. “I don't play to get recruited. I play because I was bored.”

“You have natural leadership—”

“I don't lead anyone,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “Half that team wants to kill me because I’ve slept with their girlfriends. I’m not a prodigy. If you want a star player, talk to Tyler or Justin. I’m just the school rebel lesbian who doesn't give a damn about authority.”

Coach looked horrified, but Carol’s face remained unreadable. She reached into her blazer, pulling out a sleek business card, and pressed it into my hand.

“If you change your mind, call me.”

She walked out. I stood there, my heart hammering against my ribs, suffocating on the sudden weight of it all. I crumpled the card in my palm, tossed it into Coach’s trash can, and walked back out without saying a word.

A scholarship? Me? I’m a mess. I drink, I smoke, I break every rule in this town.

I bumped right into Tyler in the hallway. “Watch it, lesbo,” he spat, but I didn't even fight back. My mind was completely numb.

The fourth quarter was a total blur.

Score: 27 to 23, Bears leading. Five minutes left on the clock.

“Alright, Wolves!” Tyler yelled in the huddle, his eyes wild with sweat and desperation. “This is it! Everything on the line! Howl on three! One, two, three!”

“AWOOO!”

We lined up at the 30-yard line. The stadium lights bled into the night sky. I stepped into position right behind Tyler.

“Set... HIKE!”

The snap hit Tyler’s hands. I sprinted into the gap, turning my head back to catch the short lateral pass. My fingers tucked the leather ball tight against my chest. I took two hard steps forward—

CRACK.

A 250-pound linebacker hit me blind from the side.

My body didn't just hit the turf—it snapped. My head whipped violently into the ground, the sound of my helmet cracking open echoing inside my skull like a gunshot. The air vanished from my lungs in an instant. A blinding explosion of white pain shot down my spine, followed immediately by complete, terrifying numbness.

I couldn't feel my arms. I couldn't feel the cold turf beneath my legs.

“HOLY s**t! MEDIC!” someone screamed, their voice sounding like it was underwater.

Hands grabbed at my shoulders.

“Raven! Can you hear me? Don't move her!”

“DON’T TOUCH HER HELMET! WAIT FOR THE PARAMEDICS!”

My vision went dark at the edges, tunneling down to a pinpoint. Through the chaos and the flashing stadium lights, my eyes drifted past the crowd of players toward the sideline.

Standing right at the edge of the field, holding her hands over her mouth, was Gabriella. Her eyes were wide, filled with pure horror, unexplainable longing, and tears.

A soft voice echoed right beside my ear as everything faded into blackness. “You’re going to be okay, Raven...”

I prayed to God it was her. Because even as the dark pulled me under, one truth stayed unbroken:

I still love her.