Motorcycle Babe

The Waterfall

Raven

I sat by our waterfall for what felt like hours—probably more than I wanted to admit. The silence around me was heavy, almost suffocating, but it was exactly what I needed to drown out the noise in my head.

I still couldn't believe I’d almost given in. With any other girl, I’d have been more than willing to cross that line and forget her name by morning. But she wasn't any other girl. She was—and probably still is—the love of my life. Not that I’ll ever say that out loud. Not to her, and definitely not to a world that already thinks I'm a mistake.

I sighed deeply and reached into my pocket, my fingers brushing against the joint I had tucked away. I was about to pull it out when the memory of her stopped me. I remembered how she’d been so against all this, yet somehow willing to try it just once because she trusted me.

I wasn't a "bad girl" back then. I didn't get into fights. I didn't have a flask permanently tucked into my jacket. I was just Raven. But after the accident... after the "after"... I needed a way to kill the static. The leather jacket and the reputation were just things I grew into so no one would see how much I was shaking.

The bruises from the fights were nothing. The bruises from living without her? Those were the ones that wouldn't heal.

Our relationship had been a beautiful, complicated secret. Her parents were the kind of "devoted Christians" who used their faith like a shield to keep the l***q community out. We had to hide everything. That pressure shaped us; it made every stolen moment feel like a victory. Sneaking around became our oxygen, and that’s how the bleacher spot was born. We’d stumbled across it one night—hidden, forgotten, and perfect. It was our sanctuary, the only place where we could just be two kids in love before the world broke us.

We came so close to losing our virginity there. But I’d wanted to wait. I wanted us to be seniors, to be sure, to have a world that felt a little more ready for us. We did other things—things I still dream about—but none of it ever felt right with anyone else.

I pulled out my flask and took a long swig. The burn in my throat was a small comfort compared to the ache in my ribs. I scoffed at my own reflection. Here I was, back at the same spot I used to get drunk at because of a girl.

But she wasn't just a girl. She was my girl. The one who got away because of a stupid decision we made that night. A decision that never should have happened.

"f**k," I whispered to the empty woods, my voice cracking.

The tears threatened to fall, but I clenched my jaw until it ached. I haven't cried since that night. Not even at my dad’s funeral. When he died, the world lost its color. My mom tried to drown her grief in a bottle before burying herself in eighty-hour work weeks. She stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped living. The spark in her eyes died the day her love left this world.

My parents had the kind of story people write books about. They met at the mall when Mom was a college freshman and Dad was a high school senior working a pretzel stand, handing out free samples. For him, it was love at first sight. He was awkward back then, with thick glasses too big for his face, but he grew into his charm. Mom never doubted him, and the way they looked at each other... it was the only thing I ever really wanted for myself.

I thought I had it. But we never got to show it to anyone. To the rest of the town, we weren't a love story; we were a disease to be cured.

I couldn't handle the weight of the "what-ifs" anymore. I grabbed my phone and hit a random playlist on Spotify, desperate for a distraction. Instead, the universe decided to twist the knife. “They Don’t Know About Us” by One Direction started to play.

The lyrics were a mirror of our secret. I’d dedicated that song to her once, back when I thought we were invincible. Now, the words felt like fresh wounds. My eyes burned, but I refused to let a single drop fall. Not here.

And then, like a ghost, I saw her—not the girl from the hallway, but the girl from the bleachers. I saw her eyes full of that raw, terrifying desire.

Fuck this. I shut off the music and tried to haul myself up, but the world decided to spin. I was crossfaded and clumsy. I stumbled, losing my balance and landing face-first in the dirt.

I just lay there for a second, letting the earth hold me. I set an alarm on my phone, remembering I was supposed to meet someone after practice. Hopefully, Arielle could be a good distraction. Hopefully, she could be the bandage I needed for a heart that was currently bleeding out.

I closed my eyes, the last image burned into my mind being the way Gabriella looked at me right before I walked away.

I still love her.