Moxie Trigger is an young and up-coming female motorbike racer. She moves from New Zealand to Germany to get better competition and also in hopes to get known better. She gets interviews and is invited to many events. But what if at one of those eve...
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.(if you got a new notification for this chapter and you have already completed it, don't bother reading it I was just adding a small note about a specific part of writing for future readers. There has been no changes to the actual story.)
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🕷️part 1
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No one's pov:
"Night rider!, night rider!" They called out. Crowds of people surrounding a girl on a motorbike. A pure black bike was in the centre of the circle. Baggy clothes hung off the girl. A tattoo running up her right arm that was revving the throttle. The noise of her bike being louder than the excited crowd. Everyone started to make a path for this girl to drive down. She drove down that path out onto the open road. Her bike reflecting the bright road lights. The girls Jet black hair with streaks of red through blew in the wind behind her. She flicked her helmet up. Revealing enchanting sky blue eyes.
Moxie Trigger Pov:
It's been three years since I had officially stopped competitive racing. Now I was Night Rider and only her. I was only known as Night Rider. A lot has changed since then. I dyed my hair a bit. I got red highlights throughout my deep black hair. I had a couple new tattoos as well. I had a sleeve on my left arm and I had one on my right thigh. I didn't get any new piercings as I was quite content with the piercings I had.
I pulled up into a large driveway. A modern house stood in front of me. This house always pissed me off. It's November of 2010 making me 20. 1 month ago I moved to Los Angeles, America. It was hard. I had just made a life in Germany but now I had to move. I remember three months ago. Being told we would move. I did not react well. I remember locking myself in a bathroom. Managing to smoke a whole pack of cigarettes in the span of 2 hours.
Ever since I got kicked off 3 years ago I've had some mental issues. Nothing major but I'd have panic attacks and sometimes shut everyone out. Anxiety. I've been getting better though. Maybe moving to America was a good thing. I turned my bike off. Flicking the side stand down. I walked to the front door and grabbed my keys from my back pocket. Unlocking the front door. My ears that were covered by my helmet were met with a muffled guitar noise.
He's at it again.
I walk to the garage which was huge. I managed to fit three of my bikes in there as well as 2 cars. Oh yea I had 3 bikes now. I pushed my gsxr into the garage next to my two other bikes. A Yamaha yzf r6 and a Kawasaki h2r (PRETEND THE H2R EXSIT IN 2010) I ran my hands along my bikes. They were my children. I unclipped my helmet. My red and black hair falling out as I pulled it off. I placed my helmet on the shelf I had for my other helmets. I walked out the garage into the open planned kitchen, lounge and dining room.
This house was to big, it freaked me out. But I liked the monotone colors. I sighed as the electric guitar filled my ears again. I walk over to these fancy stairs that took me up to a second floor. I walked down a hallway and burst through a door, revealing a tall boy playing a white electric guitar. He turned to me and his brown eyes locked with my sky blue ones. His black cornrows sat neatly on his shoulders.
