Motorcycle Babe

Hidden Yearning

Gabriella

“Wow, that was a lot of money spent today,” I mentioned to Kyle, carrying bags of clothes and accessories.

“Girl, you’re telling me,” Kyle huffed, barely breaking a sweat. “I’m going to be so tired when I get home, but it’s going to be so worth it knowing we’re going to look absolutely fabulous at Daveon’s Halloween Party.” He twirled dramatically, whipping his hair back.

I giggled, smiling because he was right. Daveon is our class president and captain of the lacrosse team and throws wicked holiday parties, but Halloween always hits—at least from what Kyle has said. He’s also best friends with Tyler, who’s no doubt going to be sporting his new thing with him there. I’m not jealous or even care about him at this point ever since what happened in the hallways on the first day, but my parents sure do, especially my mother, who's been best friends with his father since they were young. I have a feeling something was going on between them when they were younger because they didn’t look at each other like they were just friends. And I would know.

Woah, hold up. I stopped dead in my tracks, wide-eyed as that thought popped in my head. Why would that even come up when I have no idea what I meant? Or do I? Okay, brain, shut up. I think the only reason I’m thinking this way is because of Raven.

Raven.

The one girl that I’m currently craving—or at least my body is. Ever since what happened at the bleachers, I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of experiencing that again, but in a better situation. I shook my head quickly to push those thoughts away just in time to catch the rest of Kyle’s words.

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

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think he swings that way.”

He gasped and smacked my shoulder lightly. “I do, so he swings that way.”

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

“You have a point,” Kyle admitted, smirking. “However, I do say he does. He just hasn’t tasted me yet.” He skipped ahead dramatically, leaving me rolling my eyes as I hurried to keep up with him.

We continued joking all the way to my house. Thankfully, neither of us mentioned Raven. As we reached the porch, my father opened the door with a tight grin, arms folded.

“Hi, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile.

He eyed the bags in my arms and then looked at Kyle beside me. I could feel Kyle tense, bowing his head in fear. Since he’s gay and my dad a homophobe, he was always nervous around him—and my dad never made it any better with his glares and cold silence.

“You remember Kyle, don’t you? My best friend since childhood,” I said pointedly.

My father fixed his glasses and glared at Kyle, who tried to sound manlier than usual. “Good evening, sir,” Kyle gulped. “Gabriella and I just went Halloween shopping for a contest we’ll be going to later this month.”

I wanted to laugh at his suddenly deep voice, knowing how high-pitched it usually is. Kyle’s the type of gay who worships Lady Gaga and binges RuPaul’s Drag Race—but he’s also a total nerd and a jock in the spring thanks to lacrosse.

My dad only nodded and disappeared back inside, probably to his office or the kitchen. I turned to Kyle, who was still sweating bullets, and patted his shoulder before motioning him toward the door. He was about to say something when a sound cut through the air.

The sound of a motorcycle.

The roar of its engine grew louder, making us both turn. A sleek black bike sped by, and even at a distance, I could tell who it was. Raven. Her leather jacket gleamed under the late afternoon sun, and behind her sat Arielle, hair flying in the wind as she clung tightly to Raven’s waist. My chest tightened as I stared longer than I should have.

Kyle cleared his throat. When I looked over, he was smirking with one eyebrow raised, arms crossed.

I blushed, heat rushing to my cheeks.

“Green is not a good color for you,” he teased before turning away.

“Wait,” I called after him, clutching my bags tighter. “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 before walking off, leaving me sputtering.

I sighed and went inside, shutting the door behind me. My dad was nowhere to be seen as I headed upstairs and collapsed onto my bed. My eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, but my mind drifted far away.

Specifically, to a life where people didn’t hate the l***q community. A life where things could be different. A life with… someone.

I closed my eyes, and suddenly it wasn’t just a daydream. It felt like a memory. A hazy, almost-forgotten night where two people lay side by side, staring up at the stars, talking about life as if it belonged only to them.

I couldn’t remember all the details—my brain kept that part locked away—but the feeling of familiarity, of wanting, of longing, hit me like a punch.

A smile tugged at my lips as I let myself sink into it, even though I couldn’t tell if it was real. My hand reached across the bed, brushing against the empty space as though she might actually be there.

I grabbed my phone and put on “They Don’t Know About Us” by One Direction, letting the soft melody fill the room. The lyrics whispered like a secret I couldn’t fully place, a song that somehow felt familiar yet distant.

For a moment, the world fell away. Only the song, only the longing, only the sense that something—or someone—was missing. Even if I couldn’t remember everything, a shiver ran through me as though a memory was trying to surface.

Her hair catching the wind, her laugh echoing somewhere just beyond reach—I didn’t remember the details, but the feeling remained. A strange mix of curiosity and desire, like my heart knew her before my mind could.

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

And with that thought, I stayed there a little longer, listening to the fading notes of the song, feeling the pull of someone I couldn’t fully place—yet somehow couldn’t stop thinking about.