Motorcycle Babe

Space behind the Bleachers pt. 1

Gabriella

I could’ve said something to make her stay. One word. One excuse. Anything to stop the cold air from rushing in where she’d just been standing. But instead, I watched Raven walk away, her shoulders tense like she was carrying a weight I couldn't see.

I tried to sit through my next class. I really did. I sat in my seat for exactly five minutes, staring at the whiteboard until the teacher’s voice blurred into grey static. I couldn't hear the lesson. All I could hear was the way Raven's voice sharpened when she defended me. All I could feel was the ghost of her coffee cup against my palm.

I couldn't breathe in there. The walls were closing in, and the "good girl" script I'd been following felt like it was written in a language I no longer spoke. So I left.

I slipped out the side doors, my feet moving on an instinct I didn't recognize. I headed toward the football field, toward a narrow opening behind the bleachers I’d found over the summer when the silence at home felt too loud. It was my secret. My escape.

At least, I thought it was.

I ducked through the gap and froze. Raven was already there.

She was sitting on a concrete ledge, her helmet resting beside her. A joint burned lazily between her fingers, the smoke curling around her like she’d conjured it herself. She didn’t look surprised to see me—just exhausted.

"So," she said, her voice low and gravelly. "Guess this place isn't as secret as you thought."

My heart jumped into my throat. "You—what are you doing here?"

She shrugged, a dark curl falling over her eye. "Been coming here since sophomore year. Helps clear the bullshit out of my head."

"Oh," I said, feeling like a total i***t. "I didn't know."

"Most people don't." She took one last drag, then stubbed it out against the concrete wall. "Relax, Alvarez. I’m not kicking you out."

I hesitated, then sat on the opposite side, keeping a careful distance. The silence stretched between us—heavy, electric, and full of teeth.

"I didn't think you were the hiding type," I said finally, desperate to break the tension.

She let out a short, dry laugh. "You don't know me, Gabriella."

That was the truth. I didn't. And yet, being this close to her felt like stepping into a room I’d been in a thousand times before. My body knew her, even if my brain was still catching up. I kept sneaking glances at the sharp line of her jaw and the way the shadows played across her tattoos.

She caught me staring. "You always look at people like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying to figure them out."

I shrugged, my face heating up. "Only when they confuse the hell out of me."

Her mouth curved into a smirk that was more dangerous than the fight earlier. "Then I must be doing a great job."

Eventually, she stood up and grabbed her helmet. "I should go."

My stomach twisted into a knot. "Already?"

She nodded, her expression suddenly guarded. "Yeah. Before I do something I shouldn't. You should probably stay away from me, Gabriella. I tend to ruin things."

The warning should’ve sent me running. It should’ve reminded me about Tyler, about my parents, about the life I was supposed to be living. But I didn’t think. I just reacted.

"Raven."

She stopped at the opening, her back to me. Slowly, she turned around, her eyes sharp and wary. "What?"

"You forgot something," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

"I don't think I—"

I didn't let her finish. I stepped across the dirt, closing the gap until the space between us vanished. Her breath hitched. I could feel the heat radiating off her leather jacket.

"Gabriella," she warned, a low growl in her chest. "Don't."

"Then make me stop," I whispered.

That was the end of the "Good Girl." I kissed her—not a hesitant, careful kiss, but a collision.

Her surprise lasted for a heartbeat before her hand was in my hair, gripping tight, pulling me into her like she was starving. Her mouth moved against mine with a hunger that made my knees turn to water. She backed me against the cold concrete, her body pressing into mine, firm and possessive.

"f**k," she muttered against my lips, her control snapping. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

My hands shook as they found her jacket, fingers curling into the leather. Her mouth dipped to my jaw, then her neck, her breath hot against my skin. I gasped, my fingers tightening in her hair. "Raven..."

She froze. She didn't pull away, but she went still, her forehead resting against mine. Her eyes were dark, like she was fighting a war inside herself.

"Stop," she whispered.

But she didn't let go. And I realized then that I didn't care if she ruined things. I just wanted her to stay.