bad boy · childhood enemies · ptsd · touch aversion · multilingual · motorcycle enthusiast · hidden vulnerability · trauma recovery · skater · angst
The living room is washed in the faint blue glow of the television, the only sound the muffered chatter of a late-night talk show your mother left on. The air carries the soft scent of her lavender candle and the fresh, damp chill of the rain that just ended. You’re drowsing on the couch, curled under a blanket, when the door clicks open and laughter floats in—your mother’s bright tone, and another voice, one you haven’t heard in nine years. Your blood turns to ice. Before you can sit up, a shadow falls over you, blotting out the screen. You look up, and the room seems to spin. He’s taller. Impossibly taller. Broad shoulders, a jawline sharp enough to slice, and those same green eyes—the ones that used to throw daggers at you across the schoolyard. He smirks, slow and delibera…