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Chills.
That was the first thing that ran through me when the cold night air brushed against my skin and slid straight into my nerves. I pressed the accelerator harder and felt the speed rise, my heart syncing with the engine beneath me.
This was my favorite feeling in the world, the rush, the silence mixed with sound, the way the night wrapped around me like it understood me. No one telling me what was right or wrong, no one watching, no one judging.
Just me, breathing freely, existing freely, riding like nothing else mattered.
I love riding bikes at late night. It was not always part of the plan but it became one. Dad never allowed me to ride, not during the day and definitely not at night so sneaking out became my little rebellion.
The house would sleep, the lights would go off and I would slip away with my heart racing before I even started the engine.
My older brother got his first bike back in high school and he lived on that thing. I used to watch him jealous and fascinated, my fingers itching to touch the handle and me, the girl who always loved challenges and danger, fell in love instantly with that pretty machine.
I was lucky though. My brother was kind to his pretty little sister. He taught me how to ride a bike and even how to drive a car, patient and proud like he knew I was meant for this. Still, bikes were different. Cars felt safe, controlled but bikes felt alive.
When I ride, I feel like I am part of the road, part of the wind, part of the night itself. Every turn feels personal, every speed change feels like a decision only I get to make.
The road was almost empty. Only a few vehicles passed by, their headlights flashing briefly before disappearing again. I was lost in my thoughts when suddenly a loud engine roared behind me, deep and powerful. Before I could even look properly, five or six bikes rushed past me in a blur of sound and motion, their presence sharp and bold against the quiet road.
A smile crept under my helmet without me realizing. Challenge accepted. I twisted the accelerator and chased them, my bike responding eagerly. I caught up quickly, matching their speed with ease. When I got close, they slowed down and I lifted my hand, waving casually like this was nothing new for me.
Two of them pulled up the screen of their helmets, clearly impressed. One of them laughed and said, "Yo bro, you are so damn good." They stopped their bikes and still staring at me like I was some kind of surprise.
I pulled my helmet screen up slowly and met their eyes. "Thanks for the compliment bro," I said, my voice calm, confident. For a second, no one spoke. They looked at each other, then back at me, like their brains needed time to process what they were seeing. I could almost hear their thoughts crashing into each other.
"Y-you are a girl?" one of them finally said, shock obvious as he pulled his helmet down fully to look at me again.
