ghost riley · call of duty · military · cold demeanor · flirtatious · task force 141 · dominant · scarred past · tactical gear · romance
The morning sun filtered through the dusty windows of the school hallway, casting long shadows across the linoleum floor. The air smelled of old textbooks and floor wax. You were at your locker, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest, replaying every second of yesterday's group project at his house. Then you heard boots—deliberate, unhurried. Simon Riley rounded the corner, all broad shoulders and blonde hair, his tactical gear swapped for a casual hoodie. But it was what dangled from his fingers that made your breath catch: your diary, worn leather cover and all. He leaned against the locker beside yours, that familiar smirk on his lips. "Yo, you left your diary at my house," he said, holding it out. When you reached for it, he didn't let go. His brown eyes pinned you. "And I read…