Cruising through the streets of Daytona was so much fun when I first moved here. So many sights to see, new roads to explore, and so many other bikes out and about. Now, however, it's God awful. Traffic is stop and go the majority of the time. That is terrible in a car, and so much worse on a bike. I can barely even lift my feet up off the ground because the nonexistent flow of traffic is so damn slow. Then, there's the heat. It's hot and humid to begin with here, but add in the sun beating down onto me, plus the exhaust heat radiating from the cars all around me. Dad just had to put all black parts on Black Betty, who I just had to take out today for my vlog of the week. By the time I finally pull into my garage, I'm drenched with sweat. My shirt and jeans are soaked, heavy as I take them off and throw them into the laundry basket. Taking off my leather boots and pealing my socks off, I nearly gag at the smell. I guess I'm washing those really well this evening before I leave for my first bike show since moving here.

Starting the shower up, I take off my bra and underwear, quickly wrapping myself up in my silk robe while I wait for the water to warm up, which takes awhile. For a nicer, newer apartment complex, you would think it would instantly be toasty warm, but I guess not. I'm just not lucky enough for that luxury.

Running to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, desperately needing something to replenish all of the fluids I sweat out this morning, I hear a knock at the door. I expect it to be Gina, she said she'd be stopping by at some point this afternoon to catch up on a couple of episodes of Grey's Anatomy with me. I quickly shuffle my way over to the door, opening it wide.

"Hey Gin-" I stop suddenly, shocked. This is most definitely not Gina standing in front of me. It's none other than Ryder, staring me down, a blush forming on his cheeks. My eyes go wide, and I quickly slam the door. I lean against it, breathing heavily. Ryder mother fucking Cunningham just saw me in a skimpy silk robe. Even worse, he probably smelled my body odor as soon as I walked up to the door.

Looking out the peephole, I see him still standing there shuffling his feet, his blush darker than before. I crack the door just enough to hardly let any sunshine in, and say "I'll text you when I'm out of the shower." With that, I run off and jump into the shower, scrubbing to the point of my skin going raw, hoping I can scrub away that moment.

2 hours later, and Gina is over, finishing up the last episode of season 6 of Grey's Anatomy. Since my second week of living here, her and I have been watching the show together, going to each other's apartment at least 2 times a week to watch. I texted Ryder as soon as I got out of the shower, but I haven't heard from him. Instead of forgetting about it like I probably should have, my eyes have been glued to my phone, every vibration causing me to jump, hoping it's him. Instead, it's only been emails coming in.

"You're distracted," Gina says, eyes filled with concern. "Everything okay?" I look up from my phone to see the show on pause, and her gaze locked onto me.

"Yeah, I guess," I say with a sigh. "Just expecting to hear from someone."

"A boy? Or maybe a neighbor? Or maybe both?" She says, scooting closer, grabbing my hand in support.

"I see where you're getting at," I reply, rolling my eyes. "Yes, it's Ryder. We had a bit of a weird moment earlier, and I tried texting him, but he won't respond to me."

"Weird moment? Weird how?" Her brows are furrowed, but she looks interested. She's beginning to sound just like my mom.

I sigh again, and she looks at me, pleading me to tell her. "Well, I was getting ready to get into the shower earlier, and I was wearing a small silk robe. Something nobody else should see besides me, you know?" She nods, an evil smile forming. "He knocked on the door, and I answered thinking it was you coming over early. So he saw me in a skimpy robe, and I think he checked me out, but I don't know. The whole thing was so shocking that it's a blur. I slammed the door, texted him after my shower, and now... nothing."

"Sweetie, take a breath." I look to Gina, not even realizing I wasn't breathing. "It's not like it's the first time he's checked you out," she laughs. I raise my brows at her, indicating to explain more. "Almost every time I see you two together, his eyes are all over you. When you look away, he takes a good look at you, and trust me, I know you do the same."

"No I do not!" I argue, but the blush is beginning to form, indicating my lie. Gina just raises her brows at me, making me cave in. "Okay, maybe a little. But I'm pushing that away! He's never shown any sign of being interested, so why should I put myself through that? That's just asking to get hurt."

"Oh, dear, sweet Corina. The signs are there, you just choose not to see them." She then turns and plays the episode again, ignoring my confused look.

It's now 8:30 at night, and still nothing from Ryder. I've texted him a couple more times asking if he's alright, but he just ignores me, if he's even reading them. If I'm ever able to get ahold of his phone, I'm turning his damn read receipts on. I can't handle not knowing if he's even acknowledging my texts. I slide on my now clean boots, and head out to the garage, looking between my bikes. I can't decide which one to take tonight. Black Betty has won multiple bike shows, but the Iron has yet to see one. I decide on Black Betty, hoping to make a statement and get myself into the local biker community a little more, and back her out of the driveway. I shut the garage door, slipping the receiver into my swingarm bag, and flip the ignition on. Pressing my thumb onto the start switch, she roars to life, the pipes pissing off Mr. Shapiro. I rev the motor as high as I can, covering up his screams. Looking back at him, I laugh. While turning my head back forward, I see Ryder looking out his window, staring straight through my soul. I shake it off and dump the clutch, doing a tiny burnout before the tires catch traction and send me out into the night.

Half an hour later, I'm pulling into the large parking lot of Big Sandy's Superstore, who is hosting the bike show tonight. I pull up to the registration table, handing the kind woman my registration fee. She smiles and an older man puts a sticker onto the top of my bright headlight. I hit the kill switch, cutting of the engine. "Please go to the Sportster area, and there will be a man there to help guide you on where to park. Your number is 31," the man explains. I mumble a thank you, and start the bike back up, riding over to my indicated area.

A younger man waves me down, and tells me to back in in front of a newer looking Harley Davidson Forty Eight. It looks nice, but also stock, so at least it's no competition to me. I back in with ease, put down the kick stand, and stand up, pulling my helmet off, placing it on the handlebars. Reaching into the swingarm back, I pull out my phone and hairbrush, brushing through my hair that I straightened for the event.

Beginning to walk away, I hear a wolf whistle from behind me. Not this shit, please, I just want to enjoy my night. I quickly turn around to see two men, probably in their forties, coming my way. "You ride that by yourself tonight, little lady?" One says to me, while the other snickers beside of him.

"Clearly, asshole," I retort. I go to walk away before he speaks again.

"Not so fast, sweetheart. I want to know more about the bike. I wasn't trying to upset you." Relieved, I relax my muscles, not realizing they had tensed up.

"Thank God," I laugh. "I wasn't ready to deal with some dickhead tonight. I just came here to have some fun." I lead them over to my bike and rest my hand on the seat. "Her name is Black Betty. My dad bought her brand new from A.D. Farrow back in 2009, and gave her to me when I turned 18."

"Your old man sounds like a good father," the other guy states, walking around, observing the bike. "Those Vance and Hines Short Shots?"

"Yes, sir. Put 'me on all by myself when I was 16. My dad had them laying in the box in the garage for two months with no intention of putting them on anytime soon. The stock pipes sounded like shit, even with the baffles removed, so I took the initiative," I explain. "Too bad they're black. I think chrome would look amazing."

"This a Nightster?" The first man asks, and I nod in reply. "I think the black looks good on these, with the black tank and fenders. Gives it that badass look, if you ask me."

"I gotta agree with my man Falcon here. The black parts really go with the whole theme of the bike," the second man butts in.

I look at the man beside me, who sticks out his hand, and I gladly shake it. "Falcon is just my road name. My real name is Glen. It's nice to meet you..." he trails off silently asking for my name.

"Corina," I say with a smile. "No road name, yet at least."

"You'll get there, don't worry. I didn't get mine until I was 35," the second man says, shooting Falcon a joking glare. "I'm Todd, also known as Bones. Pleasure to meet you, Corina."

The rest of the night goes similarly, meeting new people and showing off my bike. It's now a quarter to 11, and people are quickly gathering around the bikes, putting in their final votes for their favorites. For the touring category, I voted for a beautiful Road Glide with a custom deep blue paint job and all chrome accessories. The owner, Josh, and his wife, Caitlin, rode in from a small town 35 minutes away. They're both in their mid twenties, and were the sweetest people. Caitlin and I instantly connected, gossiping about the latest news, and even exchanged numbers. I manage to surpass my main goal for the night, making some new friends. Falcon and Bones invited me on a ride next weekend with their buddies. At first, I was nervous, but they ensured me their wives would be there, riding their own bikes, which put me at ease.

At 11 on the dot, the announcer cuts off the music and speaks into the microphone. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, the time has come! The votes are finishing up being counted as we speak! Before we unveil the winners, I would just like to thank each and every one of you for coming. Even if you don't win tonight, just remember your bike is awesome in its own way, and you're an awesome ass person for being here! Let's give a round of applause for the people who rode here tonight to show off their bikes!" People all round start clapping, and the announcer cuts them off after a few seconds. "Now let's look and see how much money we've raised tonight, which is all being donated to the Children's Miracle Network!" As he turns around to get the current total, people begin clapping again, hollering, and smiling. The announcer turns back around, and the crowd goes silent. He slowly raises the microphone to his mouth, increasing the suspense. "Holy shit," he begins, only to pause for another moment. "You guys did more than great tonight! We've exceeded our goal of 5 thousand dollars! Actually, we've more than exceeded, we tripled it! Thanks to all of you, we have raised a total of 15,168 dollars! And the night isn't even over! Thank you all for being so generous. It's such a shame the biker community has such a bad reputation. You guys are all so generous!" The crows starts cheering and clapping again, people hugging each other, and a few even start to cry. This, right here, is why I love being a biker.

As the crows dies down once again, I see a woman walk over, carrying small pieces of paper. She hands them to the announcer, which he nearly yanks out of her hands in excitement, to which she just laughs. "If everyone could please settle down, as in my hands right now are the results! Now listen closely, and if your number is called, please come up here ready to receive your plaque. We'll then hand you the microphone so you can tell us your name and some information on your bike."

Reading the first paper, he smiles. "This is no surprise. In the Sport Bike category, we have number 45!" Looking over the where the Sport Bike category was, I see only one bike, an older black Ducatti. That sucks, the poor guy had no competition. That's the whole fun of actually entering these things. I don't pay much attention to the winner, other than hearing the voice of a younger boy say his name is Luke.

The announcer goes through two more categories before getting to Touring. I cross my fingers, hoping for Josh and Caitlin to win, but sadly, they don't. Some guy with a sparkly silver Indian motorcycle won. Those bikes are junk, and shouldn't even qualify in these. Harley Davidson or bust, as my dad would always say to me.

Another 2 categories get announced, and it's finally time for the Sportsters, the last one of the night. "Alright everyone, this is it. The last winner for the night! Are you ready?" The crowd is hyped up, ready to hear the final winner. "Alright, settle," he laughs. "The winner is... number 32!" I slump. I can't believe I lost. So many people were looking at Black Betty tonight, most of them asking me questions about her. I hardly even had time to walk around and look at the other bikes.

"Dude, that bike was in the Dyna category!" I hear a man yell from the back of the crowd. Thinking back to earlier tonight, I remember a Dyna Breakout pulling in behind me, obviously getting the number 32.

The announcer leans in closer to the paper, before sighing into the microphone. "Whoops, I made a mistake. Someone has bad handwriting," he explains, and the crowd laughs. "Let me try this again. The real winner in the Sportster category is... number 31!" I rush to the tent and am handed my plaque and the microphone.

"Hello! Thank you all for voting for my 2009 Sportster Nightster 1200. Her name is Black Betty, and my name is Corina Hamilton." I hear clapping from all around me, and the announcer gives me a quick congratulatory smile. I hold tightly onto my plaque, smiling at it when I see a camera flash. Looking up, I see that stupid smirk.

Ryder came to see me win. At that, I smile even bigger than I ever though possible.

—————

This is super long lol. And to think I thought the last chapter was long.

Sorry if there are any grammar or word mistakes. I wrote this whole chapter on my phone and autocorrect always gets the best of me. I tried to read through and check though, if that counts for anything!

Thanks for sticking around and reading!