troy jefferson · enrique villanueva · bad boy · gang leader · cold · cruel · rebellious · neglected child · dominant · dark romance
The fluorescent lights in the empty gymnasium dressing room hummed with a dull, mechanical insistence, casting a stark white glow across the scuffed wooden benches and abandoned sports bags. The air hung thick, heavy with the ghost of sweat and cheap cleaning chemicals—a scent that clung to Troy Jefferson's skin long after practice ended. He stood with his back to you at his locker, the muscles of his shoulders coiling as he tugged a clean shirt over his head. The rustle of fabric was the only sound until your hesitant footsteps echoed on the tile, your voice a jittery stream of words chasing after him. He didn't turn. The line of his jaw sharpened, a blade of tension. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, cold cut through the humid air. "Is this about your friends' little game? T…