Motorcycle Babe

Hidden Yearning

Gabriella

“Wow. That was a lot of money spent today,” I muttered, the plastic handles of the shopping bags digging into my palms.

“Girl, you’re telling me,” Kyle huffed, though he was barely breaking a sweat. “I’m going to be a zombie by the time I get home, but it’ll be worth it. We are going to look absolutely fabulous at Daveon’s Halloween Party.” He twirled dramatically, whipping his hair back.

I giggled. He was right. Daveon, our class president and lacrosse captain, throws holiday parties that are practically legendary. But Halloween always hits different—at least, according to Kyle. Daveon is also best friends with Tyler, who will no doubt be there sporting his "new thing" just to see if I’m watching.

I’m not. I haven’t cared about Tyler since the first day of school, but my parents sure do. Especially my mother. She’s been best friends with Tyler’s father since they were kids, and sometimes... the way they look at each other doesn't feel like "just friends."

Wait. Why did I think that? I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes widening. Why would a thought like that even pop up when I have no memory to back it up? Or do I? “Shut up,” I whispered to my own brain. I was only thinking about "looks" and "longing" because of Raven.

Raven.

She’s the only thing I’m currently craving—or at least, my body is. Ever since the bleachers, I can't stop replaying the possibility of experiencing that again, but in a world where we didn't have to stop. I shook my head hard to scatter the thoughts just in time to catch the end of Kyle’s monologue.

“—and that is why I would look the hottest with Daveon as my man,” he finished proudly.

I rolled my eyes. “I don't think he swings that way, Kyle.”

He gasped, smacking my shoulder. “He does if I say he does!”

I laughed. “All I’m saying is he’s a popular guy, and all I’ve ever seen around him are girls.”

“You have a point,” Kyle admitted, smirking as he skipped ahead. “However, he just hasn’t tasted me yet.”

We joked the rest of the way to my house, neither of us mentioning Raven, which was a relief. But the laughter died the second we reached the porch. The front door opened, and my father stood there with a tight, practiced grin and folded arms.

“Hi, Dad,” I said, my voice going small.

He eyed my bags, then shifted his gaze to Kyle. I felt Kyle tense beside me, his head bowing. Since Kyle is out and my dad is... well, my dad, there’s always this thick, suffocating tension between them.

“You remember Kyle, don't you? My best friend since childhood,” I said, trying to force a bridge between them.

My father fixed his glasses, his glare cold and silent. Kyle gulped, his voice dropping an octave into a forced, "masculine" register. “Good evening, sir. Gabriella and I just went Halloween shopping for a contest later this month.”

I wanted to laugh at the deep voice, knowing Kyle usually sounds like he’s narrating a Lady Gaga documentary. My dad only gave a sharp nod and disappeared back into the house, likely to his office to hide from the "influence" of my best friend.

I turned to Kyle, who was literally sweating bullets. I patted his shoulder, but before he could say a word, a sound cut through the suburban quiet.

The roar of a motorcycle.

It grew louder, a deep, rhythmic thrum that made the air vibrate. A sleek black bike tore past the end of the street. Even from a distance, I knew it was her. Raven. Her leather jacket gleamed, and behind her sat Arielle, her hair a wild banner in the wind as she clung tightly to Raven’s waist.

My chest tightened. I stared much longer than I should have.

Kyle cleared his throat. When I looked over, he was smirking, one eyebrow arched. I felt the heat rush to my cheeks instantly.

“Green is not a good color on you, Gabby,” he teased.

“Wait,” I called out as he turned to leave. “You’re not staying?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m good. Plus, I think you’ve got some 'business' to take care of in your room.” He wiggled his eyebrows and walked off before I could protest.

I sighed and went inside, the house feeling colder than usual. I headed upstairs and collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind drifted to a life where my father’s rules didn't exist. A life where things were... different.

I closed my eyes, and suddenly, it wasn't a daydream. It felt like a retrieval. I saw a hazy, star-filled night. Two people lying side by side, talking about life as if it belonged only to them. I couldn't see the faces—my brain kept that part locked behind a steel door—but the feeling of familiarity and longing hit me like a physical weight.

A smile tugged at my lips. I reached across the bed, my hand brushing the empty space as though someone were actually there.

I grabbed my phone and hit shuffle. “They Don’t Know About Us” by One Direction began to play. The melody filled the room, whispering like a secret I couldn't fully place. It felt familiar, yet distant.

For a moment, the world fell away. There was only the song and the sense that something—or someone—was missing. A shiver ran through me. Her hair catching the wind, a laugh echoing just out of reach... I didn't have the details, but I had the feeling.

I let out a slow breath and whispered to the empty room, “I don’t know why... but I feel like I should care.”

I stayed there for a long time, listening to the fading notes, feeling the magnetic pull of a girl I couldn't remember, but my heart refused to forget.