Disclaimer: We don't own Twilight and we've never played roller derby, but this is our idea of what it might look like if you meshed the two together.

Pivot line–the starting line for the pack that is in front of the jammer line.


Friday is my favorite night of the week.

I assume almost everyone feels the same as I do. For most, Friday signals a two-day break from work. For me, though, it's the first night of the week that I get to see her.


I doubt that's her real name, but I don't care. It suits her.

As I take my usual seat, I spill some of the foam from my beer over the edge of the plastic cup, covering my fingers and falling onto the floor. The mess doesn't particularly bother me, but I really don't want to smell like stale beer for the rest of the night. I contemplate making a fast trip to the men's bathroom to wash up, but quickly change my mind, when I see Cherry make her way to the corner nearest me.

I love watching her warm up before a bout. She moves her body with grace and skill, deliberately rolling and stretching the muscles in her arms, legs, and back. When she's finally limbered up, she slides on her elbow and knee pads, laces up her skates, and hits the rink.

That's right. My Cherry is a roller derby girl.

OK, so she's not really mine, but I want her to be. I've actually never even talked to her. I just sit in the same front-row seat every Friday night and watch her skate her team to victory, like the chicken-shit stalker I am.

I'm so pathetic.

I wish I had the nerve to talk to her, but I can't. There's no way Cherry would ever be interested in me. I'm a geek. I have the glasses and various degrees and certificates to prove it. She is way too cool for me, so I must admire her from afar.

And, admire her, I do.

Starting from the top, I watch her quickly braid her pigtails before she puts her helmet on. Her eyes are surrounded by makeup that is dark and smudged, and the cherry-red gloss she swipes onto her lips makes them look perfectly plump. Especially her bottom lip. I dream of sucking that lip into my mouth quite often.

Trying to discreetly adjust myself while the house lights are still on proves to be difficult, so I cross my legs and think about the national debt in order to calm myself down.

Cherry's V-neck shirt is tight in all the right places, pushing her tits up nice and high for me to gaze at, while her shorts ride up just high enough for the bottom of her ass cheeks to peek out. When she turns around, I see that her full Derby name is stitched across her back. "Cherry Bomb." So fucking hot. Completing her uniform are white knee-high socks with hot pink stripes wrapped around the tops, and I am now discreetly adjusting my crotch again.

Moments later, it's time for the first bout to start. I see my buddy, Emmett, who is a Derby zebra, skate out onto the center of the rink, before blowing his whistle and signaling for the players to get in their starting positions.

The look of pure concentration on her face takes my breath away. Eyes straight ahead, brows furrowed, and her bottom lip sucked in. She looks so determined and strong. Being a jammer, Cherry is one of the players responsible for scoring points for the team and she's damned good at it.

Her arms are bent at ninety-degree angles, poised to help push herself past her opponents. She's standing with her knees slightly bent, and from where I'm sitting, I'm able to see her incredibly defined thigh muscles tremble in anticipation. Her calves are tight, like balloons about to pop, and, when Emmett blows his whistle, they immediately propel her body forward.

I love watching Derby bouts, and it's not just because of Cherry. Most people think it's funny to watch 'girls' on roller skates pushing each other around. According to Emmett, though, it's almost as good as watching porn. I wouldn't really know. The few porno scenes I've watched only made me feel dirty. Watching these bouts is exhilarating to me.

The Roller Derby is always exciting and fun. Most people don't notice the strategy that is involved, but I do. That's why I love watching Cherry so much. OK, well, part of the reason. I admit it's sexy as hell seeing her push and curse at her opponents. There's something about seeing her pissed off that sets my inner caveman on fire. I'm not sure that I ever want her pissed off at me like that, but watching her unleash her wrath onto others is one of the sexiest things I've ever witnessed.

When the bout is over, Emmett catches my eye from the rink and motions me down. I toss my empty cup and trash into the can at the bottom of the stairs and walk over. "What's up, man? Great bout, huh?"

"Yeah, those chicks are brutal. They all skated their asses off tonight." Emmett waggles his eyebrows, with the last statement. He's fooling no one. We all know that he's a zebra for the main purpose of checking out the girls, and for the love of the sport, but mostly checking out the babes.

"Would you mind tallying some stats? Jasper couldn't be here tonight and the other dipstick didn't show."

"Sure, Em. I don't mind."

"Meet me at Willie's when you're finished?"

"Yep," I answer, making my way over to the table where the scorekeeper left all of the tally sheets. I actually don't mind doing this. It's like mixing my two worlds together. I enjoy numbers and I enjoy derby, so figuring stats is a no-brainer.

When I finish, I look up and realize that everyone else has bailed. Walking past the concessions, I give one last call to make sure Emmett isn't still in the locker rooms. "Em!"

Nothing. I flip off the light and walk out the main doors, turning around to make sure they locked behind me. When I begin to make my way across the parking lot to my car, I hear a commotion on the side of the building. It sounds like someone is in a fight, so I walk quickly, but quietly, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

Rounding the corner, I see her.

Her hair that was in tight braids is now a mess of brown curls flying around. Her back is to me and I see a little tease of the tattoo on her lower back. I've seen it before, when her uniform rides up during a bout, but thanks to her jeans sitting so low on her hips and her shirt being tied in a knot, I'm getting a little more than usual.

"Mike. Fucking. Newton!"

She kicks the side of her car in between each word, getting more violent as she goes. She then starts hammering the hood with her fist, and I feel like I have to do something - say something. I don't want her to hurt herself, which is odd, because I just watched her smash the shit out of people for the last hour, and occasionally get the shit smashed out of her, but this is different. Her pads are off and she looks so much smaller, more vulnerable and somewhat more approachable now.

"Excuse me," I barely get my voice to rise above a squeak. She doesn't even turn around. I'm sure she can't hear me over her continued mumbling about "Mike Fucking Newton" and how much of a douche he is. Her vernacular would put a sailor to shame. She's spewing out words I've never even heard before, and each one of them turns me on, going straight to my cock.

I silently adjust myself for the hundredth time tonight and attempt to get her attention again. "Uh, I-I don't think kicking the car is going to fix it," I tell her, because I'm pretty sure that won't work and because I don't know what else to say.

Her long mahogany brown hair whips around and she's facing me, eyes like a tiger, ready to attack. "What," she spits out, her mouth twisted into a snarl, and it's hot. So hot.

"I, uh, was just saying that I'm not positive or anything, but I'm pretty sure that, uh, kicking the car won't fix it," I end, my tone being something between a statement and a question because, honestly, I have no idea. When my car breaks down, I take it to the shop. I don't have the slightest idea about how to fix one; I don't even know how to check the oil. Dummy lights are my best friend.

The harsh look on her face slowly starts to fade and she laughs. Her head is thrown back, exposing her delicious neck and she puts her forearm over her face, as she braces herself against the hood of the car. It's a little maniacal, perhaps even bipolar. I mean, she's pissed as hell one second and laughing her ass off the next. Somehow, it just intrigues me even further.

"Do you need a lift or something?" My voice is tentative. I can't imagine her wanting to go anywhere with me, but I can't just leave her stranded in the parking lot. I look around and see that the rest of her teammates have already hightailed it out of here, probably headed to the after-party.

"Um," she starts, looking around the parking lot, probably having the same realization that everyone else is gone.

"I'm not a serial killer." Why in the hell did I just say that? This is why I can't get girls. I push up my glasses and run a hand through my hair. "What I mean is that I'm totally normal. Well, not normal but I mean..." I close my eyes, willing the verbal vomit to stop any time now. "Fuck," I whisper in frustration.

I look up to see her staring at me, with a comfortable smile on her face. "You're weird."

"I know."

"I like weird."

Now it's my turn to laugh, not as hard as she was earlier, but enough to make myself loosen up a little bit. She likes weird. Well, that's a start.

"I'll take that lift."

"Good, because I wasn't going to leave you here by yourself," I say, opening the passenger door of my car.

She walks over and when she looks back up at me, I swear I see a streak of blush across her gorgeous cheekbones. She stares at me for a second and then at the door I'm holding open for her, like she's not sure what to do. I motion with my hand like a chauffeur would and she finally gets in. After I shut her door, I walk slowly around to my side, trying to calm my shit before getting into a confined space with her.

As I slide into the driver's seat, I turn to look at her, and she's looking at me. She wrinkles her nose a little and I wonder what she's thinking. Before I get to ask, she tells me. "Are you sure you should be driving?"

"Uh, yeah." I drawl out my answer, unsure of what she's getting at.

"You smell like beer."

I laugh and run a hand through my hair again, before putting my car into reverse. "I accidentally spilled some beer on my way to my seat earlier." I wasn't about to tell her why I didn't go wash it off, because that would sound creepy as hell, as would half of my thoughts from this evening.

"So, do you come to many of our bouts?" she asks, making small talk, as I pull out of the parking lot.

"All of them."

"Oh, well, that's cool."

I can't tell by her tone if she's glad or indifferent or freaked out. My palms feel sweaty and I feel the need to wipe them off on the legs of my jeans, but I don't want her to notice, so I don't.

"Sorry about your car."

She waves it off. "No big deal. It's a piece of shit, really, but I can't force myself to buy a new one. I just paid it off recently and it's like some absolute law that a car must fall apart once you don't owe any money on it." She laughs and turns in her seat, so that she's facing me. "I took it over to Newton's last week to have the starter replaced. Rose told me that I shouldn't have, but he's a big supporter of the league, so I wanted to give him some business," she shrugs, biting on her thumb nail. "I shoulda listened to Rose."

This feels comfortable. Her sitting here...in my car...telling me about her car. I turn the corner and see the bar up on the right hand side of the road and I'm a little sad that our time together is almost over.

While I still have her full attention, I want to say something to her...something to let her know how I feel about her, but everything that comes to my mind sounds so fucking stupid.

I think you're amazing. Can I call you sometime? Do you have a boyfriend? What made you want to be a Derby girl? Can I have your autograph? Can I kiss you? Can I buy you a beer?

I shake my head in an effort to clear the ridiculous thoughts.

"Hey, thanks for the lift." Her smile is so sweet and genuine.

"You're welcome. Anytime."

"Are you coming in?" She motions with her thumb toward the bar, as I pull into the parking lot.

"Uh, yeah. I actually come here all the time. A couple of my friends are inside."

"Oh. Well, good." She nods her head, still staring at me, like she's trying to figure me out or something.

After I park the car, I run around to her side and open the door for her. She is a little hesitant as she gets out of the car slowly. "Do you do that for all the girls?" She quirks an eyebrow at me, in question.

I feel my face practically burst into flames. I don't know if it's from her close proximity or her insinuating that I have a lot of girls in my car, which is the furthest thing from the truth. "Uh, I don't," I stutter, shaking my head and closing the door behind her.

"So, you don't what? You don't open the door for all the ladies?" Her lips creep up into a seductive smirk.

I swallow to clear the rather large lump that has formed in my throat, and try to think of dead puppies and nasty old grandmas...anything to get the equally large bulge in my pants to go away.

"I don't have a lot of girls in my car," I reply, finally.

She glances up at me through her long lashes and a look of disbelief flashes across her face. "OK, if you say so."

When we walk in, Marcus calls out to me from the bar and motions me over. I look over at Cherry and see that she's already heading over to the table, where the rest of her teammates are sitting.

She glances back over at me and waves.

I wave back, hoping that wasn't the last time I get to open the door for her.


Jiff: We're baaaaack! Did you miss us?

Jenny Kate: We sure did miss you guys! We missed you so much, we're posting this new fic before we really should! There won't be a strict posting schedule with this story. When we have a chapter finished, we'll post it! This could totally work out to your advantage, because if we're on a roll, you could get a few chapters a week, but we're not promising anything! Flying by the seat of our pants over here!

Jiff: In this case, we can say that we're flying by the seat of our bloomers!

Jenny Kate: Really cute ones, with pink ruffles. ;)

Jiff: We're really excited about this fun story and we hope you all like it, too! Big thanks to our beta, Mauigirl60!

Jenny Kate: We'd really love to hear what you think about this one...so, please give us your thoughts in the reviews!

Jiff: As always, you can find us wasting time and being goofy on our Jiffy Kate Facebook page and on Twitter! jiffykatefanfic TrixieandTess JiffSimpson is how you can find us!