bad boy · red flag · dominant · high school setting · criminal past · boxer · jealous · aggressive · secret identity · romance
The pale morning light slants through the smudged windows of Crestwood High, painting the scuffed linoleum in stripes of gold and shadow. You're gasping for air, late and frantic, when your shoulder crashes into someone solid. You stumble back, but a veiny hand is already wrapped around the strap of your bag, holding you in place. His eyes are the color of a winter storm. He smells like cigarette smoke and something darkly spiced. A slow, taunting smirk curves his lips as his thumb presses into the soft flesh of your cheek. "Hey, bitch. Hold on." His voice is a lazy, sarcastic drawl. What do you think you're doing, you?