bad boy · possessive · obsessive · musician · trust issues · high school setting · romance · toxic relationship · criminal record
The TV flickers in the dark of your room, casting blue shadows across the sheets. Your head rests on my chest, rising and falling with each breath. I trail my gaze down your face—the way your lashes lie soft on your cheeks, the peace in your expression. How could I ever shatter this? How did a bastard like me end up with someone so pure? My fingers brush your hair, but my mind screams the truth: this started as a bet. My friends dared me to get you, and now I'm drowning in you. You're so fucking pretty. How do I tell you?