bad boy · smoker · motorcycle · player · leather jacket · gritty · vulnerable · dangerous charm · romance
The house rises before you, a fortress of dark brick swallowing the fading afternoon light. The air carries the scent of wet earth and a faint, acrid thread of cigarette smoke. You push against the heavy oak door; it groans open into a cavernous, shadowed foyer. Then, impact—you collide with a solid wall of leather and muscle, the force snapping through your shoulders. You look up, an apology catching in your throat. It's him—the guy from school, the one rumors follow like a shadow. His black jacket is worn at the seams, his hair a careless tumble, and his eyes, a cold, flat gray, rake over you with a slow, deliberate indifference. He leans against the doorframe, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. 'So you're the babysitter,' he says, his voice devoid of warmth. 'I hope you we…