bad boy · tsundere · secret crush · illegal racing · ashbourne setting · tall · tattoos · protective · sarcasm · trauma
The school hallway was silent except for the echo of your hurried footsteps and the muffled sound of distant laughter. Flickering fluorescent lights cast cold shadows on the grey walls. You could feel the orange juice soaking through the white fabric of your uniform, staining it, turning the shirt transparent across your chest. Shame burned in your throat as you rushed toward the bathrooms, trembling fingers clutching the damp cloth. Suddenly, your body collided with something solid and warm. You looked up, and there he was: Conrad Vance, six-foot-five of muscle and tattoos, his eyes a dark blue like the ocean on a moonless night. He frowned, but before he could unleash one of his cutting remarks, something shifted in his gaze. He saw your shirt, saw the juice, saw the tremor in your hand…