Motorcycle Babe

New Girl

Raven

I took a slow sip of my iced coffee, letting the plastic straw rest against my lip as I leaned back against the frame of my bike. The morning heat clung to the asphalt like it hadn't gotten the memo that summer was over.

I wasn't expecting her to actually come looking for me. And then I saw her.

Gabriella.

My chest tightened so fast it actually pulsed with a dull ache. She stood at the edge of the student parking lot like she hadn't shattered my entire sense of balance just by existing. Tight jeans, black Converse, a band tee half-hidden under a denim jacket. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, exposing the slender curve of her neck—the kind of sight that made my hands itch and my throat dry.

Behind her, Tyler's black sports car was still idling near the drop-off line. She'd walked away from him anyway.

Fuck.

I didn't move. I forced myself to look bored—the armor I'd spent years perfecting—as if she wasn't the only thing my brain was screaming about. As if I hadn't memorized every detail of her face a lifetime ago.

She noticed me leaning against the motorcycle. She always did.

Her steps slowed as she crossed the pavement toward me. She looked... different. Still devastating, but softer around the edges, like she was standing in the middle of a life she didn't quite recognize after months locked away in homeschooling. It made sense, but it didn't make it any easier to look at her.

"What's up?" I asked as she drifted closer, keeping my voice lazy. Controlled.

She offered a tentative, uncertain smile, holding the iced cup I'd paid for earlier. "Nothing much. I just wanted to thank you... for earlier."

I shrugged, resting my heel against the bike frame. "Don't mention it."

"So... why me?" she asked, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "You could've paid for anyone."

A smirk tugged at my mouth, hiding the sudden, vicious spike in my pulse. "Because I wanted your number. And I figured if I paid, you'd come find me."

The blush hit her cheeks instantly, a soft pink sweeping across her skin. She glanced down at her drink, then hesitated, taking a small step closer and holding out a hand.

"I'm Gabriella, by the way," she said softly, looking up at me with clear, unknowing eyes. "Gabriella Alvarez. I... don't think we've officially met."

The world stopped.

The air rushed straight out of my lungs, cold and thin. The hum of the morning traffic, the chatter of students crossing the lot, the distant rumble of school buses—it all dropped out, replaced by a deafening, metallic ringing in my ears.

We haven't officially met.

Five words that cut deeper than any scar on my body. She was standing inches away from me, her small, familiar hand extended in greeting, reaching out to a stranger. Her eyes were blank of us. No memory of my touch. No memory of midnight drives. No memory of the way her fingers used to tangle in my hair when the rest of the world felt too heavy.

She'd been wiped completely clean of me.

My throat closed up, tight and dry. My fingers twitched at my side, aching to reach out and wrap around hers, but I locked my joints. I couldn't take her hand. If my skin touched hers right now—if I felt the warm, familiar pressure of her palm while she looked at me like I was just someone she'd passed in the hall—I knew I'd break right there on the asphalt.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, forcing the emotion down into the dark where it belonged. I buried it beneath a layer of ice, pulling my mask back into place before she could see the c***k in my chest.

I shoved my hands deep into my leather jacket pockets, leaning back against my bike with a dry, hollow laugh that didn't reach my eyes.

"I know who you are, Alvarez," I murmured, keeping my tone clipped and distant. "Small town."

She pulled her hand back instantly, her cheeks flushing a darker, hotter pink as she shoved her hands deep into her denim jacket pockets. She looked down at her Converse, clearly mortified that she’d just extended a hand to someone who shut her down so coldly.

"Right," she muttered, looking up through her lashes, trying to salvage whatever pride she had left. "Sorry. I guess I just... assumed."

The sight of her flustered, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, made the ice around my heart c***k all over again. I couldn't leave her hanging like that. I couldn't let her walk away thinking she was a joke to me.

"You don't have to apologize," I said softly, my mouth curving into a lazy, familiar smirk to cover the raw ache in my throat. "It's only weird if you don't end up giving me your number."

Gabriella blinked, caught completely off guard by the sudden shift. She glanced down at her iced drink, then back up at me, a tiny, hesitant smile fighting its way onto her lips.

"And if I give it to you?" she asked softly.

"I might end up texting you things I shouldn't," I said, my voice lower now, barely keeping the truth from slipping out.

Her breath hitched. Before the suffocating weight between us could snap, the warning bell shrieked through the morning air. Time was up.

I stepped closer, invading her space before I could stop myself—driven by an ugly, desperate need to prove that her mind might have forgotten me, but her skin hadn't. My knuckles lightly skimmed her cheek as I reached out to brush that loose strand of hair behind her ear. Electricity snapped between us—sharp, hot, and unmistakable. I saw her eyelids flutter, her lips parting as her body shuddered, reacting to me on pure instinct.

"Later," I murmured.

I turned and walked away before I could do something stupid, like pull her into my arms right in front of the whole school. I only looked back once, catching her standing frozen by my bike, looking completely dazed and trembling.

"Hey, Gabby!" I called out over my shoulder.

She jumped at the old nickname, her eyes widening in confusion as if the sound of it unlocked a phantom echo in her head, before she turned and hurried toward the main entrance like the ground beneath her feet was on fire.

I dumped my coffee in the trash can by the front doors. I didn't need the caffeine; my blood was already screaming.

First period was a slow suffocation of fake smiles, assigned seating, and the hum of fluorescent lights. I slid into my seat in the back corner, jamming my earbuds in and letting Joji's Slow Dancing in the Dark drown out the noise in the room.

Then the door swung open.

It wasn't Gabriella. But she was... something else.

The new girl, Arielle Gomez, walked in with a confidence that felt like a direct challenge. Dark curls, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose, and a black top that made my brain pause for a second. The teacher gestured toward the back of the room, sending her to the only open desk left in the row—right next to mine.

She pulled out the chair and sat down. I pulled one earbud out, leaning back until my chair creaked, giving her a slow, unimpressed look up and down.

"I hope you brought something more interesting than notebooks," I said, my mouth curving into a lazy smirk, "because this class is a graveyard."

Arielle smiled, leaning sideways until I could catch the sweet scent of her perfume. "I usually make my own entertainment."

"Careful," I warned softly, resting my chin in my hand. "That's how people get attached."

At the front of the room, the teacher cleared her throat sharply. "Miss Rider. Less flirting. More attention."

Arielle laughed under her breath, and for a fraction of a second, the crushing weight in my chest lifted. Through the rest of class, we traded quiet comments and sharp glances, our knees brushing under the narrow desks just enough to spark something easy and low-stakes. It was simple. It was a distraction. It was exactly what I needed to stop my head from spinning about the girl who didn't even remember my name.

"What are you doing later?" I leaned in as the final bell approached, letting the familiar thrill of the hunt take over.

"Cheer practice," she whispered back, eyes lingering on my mouth. "It'll be long since I'm new."

"I'll wait," I said. The words felt effortless, hollow—unlike the ones I'd choked on with Gabriella. "I'll pick you up on the bike. We'll hang out. You're hot, Arielle."

Arielle smiled, and for a split second, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners reminded me of someone else. Someone from a past she couldn't even remember. My gaze drifted past her shoulder to the classroom window, looking out toward the courtyard where I knew Gabriella was sitting.

I told myself to focus on the girl in front of me. To move on. To let the past stay buried where it belonged.

But no matter how many girls smiled back at me, or how hard I tried to outrun the ghost of what we used to be, my heart already knew the truth.

I still love her.