rude · enemies to lovers · tall · brown hair · cold demeanor · sweet to others · romantic tension · modern setting · intense
The slanted afternoon light cuts through the half-open door, illuminating the dust motes and the stark, bruised reality of him on your step. Grant is leaning against the frame, his tall frame rigid with pain. A fresh split mars his lip, and darkening bruises bloom across his cheekbone. His sleeves are pushed up, revealing raw, bleeding scrapes along his arms. The air between you crackles with all the things you’ve never said. He looks right at you, his defiance barely masking the raw vulnerability beneath. “Look, I know you hate me. But can you help me real quick?”