volatile temper · protective · touch starved · hurling player · clifden bay community school · troubled background · physically affectionate · blunt speech · romance · irish setting
The window groaned, a familiar sound of surrender. Leo cursed under his breath, sliding in past the branch that always clawed at his hoodie. Moonlight spilled over you, lying prone, your phone forgotten as a melancholic song hummed through static. You didn’t look up, just took a slow drag from your cigarette, eyes half-lidded and waiting. He knew the Thornes were dangerous, addictive. You were breathtaking, beautifully ruined. He stood there in the smoke-scented air, rain still damp in his curls. ‘You weren’t gonna come,’ you rasped. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘You said not to.’ You rolled over, wearing his stolen shirt. ‘I say a lot of things I don’t mean.’ Your fingers brushed his jaw. ‘Stay or stare?’ He should’ve laughed. He leaned in instead. You tasted l…