Motorcycle Babe

Scarred and Reckless

I walked out of the diner after paying for mine and Arielle's lunch. The early October air was crisp, the kind that made you want to pull your jacket tighter. My leather jacket creaked softly as I shoved my hands into the pockets, the wind pushing strands of hair across my face. Instinctively, my fingers brushed over the scar near my temple. A sigh slipped out before I tucked the thought away like I always did.

Arielle was leaning against my bike, head down, thumbs flying across her phone screen. Probably t****k again. She looked gorgeous, of course—she always did—but as much as she was beautiful, as wild as she was in bed, there was still that hollow space in my chest whenever I looked at her for long. She wasn’t it. She wasn’t Gabby.

God, Gabby. Just the thought of her name made my pulse trip. Memories came like flashes—her lips, her warmth, the bleachers, the taste of her, the way she melted in my arms as though no time had passed. Older now, older and somehow better, and me… more experienced. Too experienced, maybe. Some nights, I couldn’t tell if what I’d done was survival or regret.

“Babe?” Arielle’s voice pulled me back. She tilted her head, studying me. Her hand was suddenly on my cheek, soft but insistent. “You alright? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

I forced a small smirk, peeling her hand from my face and holding it for a beat longer than I meant to. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… thinking too hard.”

Her lips curled into a half-smile, and with her free hand she brushed my hair behind my ear. “You know, sometimes I forget just how gorgeous you are. You should see the way other girls stare when you walk past.”

I gave a half-shrug. Compliments like that had stopped mattering a long time ago. My so-called reputation—the flings, the fights, the rumors—it all traced back to me trying to drown the ache Gabby left behind. Weed hadn’t worked, alcohol hadn’t worked, and so I tried bodies instead. A temporary cure that only left me emptier. And yeah, it pissed off plenty of guys when their girlfriends wandered too close, but that was their problem, not mine.

I almost laughed at the thought—if Arielle weren’t watching me like she was waiting for me to start the bike already. Damn, my head always went running when it shouldn’t.

And then I froze.

Across the street, laughing with arms full of shopping bags, was Kyle. And right beside him—her hair tied back, cheeks flushed from the cool air, holding her own bags—was Gabby.

My chest constricted.

Kyle caught sight of me first, his eyes going wide before he elbowed her playfully. She nudged him back, rolling her eyes, but when she turned, her gaze locked with mine.

And just like that, time folded in on itself. My heart pounded so hard it almost hurt, and my legs went weak, like the pavement might give out beneath me. After everything, after all the years, after bleachers and secrets and scars—her eyes still had the power to undo me.

“Baby,” Arielle sang behind me, her voice sharp in the quiet. “Are we leaving or not? My parents won’t be home till later, and I want a quick f**k before they get back.”

Her words snapped me out of the trance, guilt washing over me like a slap. Right. Arielle.

“Oh—yeah, sorry,” I muttered, forcing my eyes away from Gabby. I handed Arielle the spare helmet and slid my own on, tightening the strap.

She pressed against me once she was seated, arms around my waist, her chest flush against my back. I could barely breathe under the weight of her, the rumble of the bike, the storm in my chest. I glanced once more across the street.

Gabby was still staring, her expression a mix of confusion and… something else. Something I couldn’t name. Kyle, though—he shook his head slowly, like he knew exactly what was unraveling in me.

I revved the engine, pulling away from the curb. In my side mirror, their figures grew smaller, Gabby’s silhouette frozen in place until she finally disappeared into the distance.

I gripped the handlebars tighter, jaw set.

No matter how much I tried to bury it, no matter who I let in, the truth gnawed at me louder than the engine roaring beneath me.

I still loved her.