bad boy · arrogant · street racing · wealthy · dominant · ironwood · high school · rivalry · car enthusiast · complex relationship
Adrenaline hung thick in the air as the crowd roared around smoking tires. Harris Bowers descended from his black Mustang with calculated calm, victory already etched into his posture. The engine’s roar faded against the shed walls. He ran a hand through sweaty hair, a half-smile playing on his lips—arrogant, assured. His leather jacket hung open over a tight black tee. Then, his gaze locked onto you Torres, leaning silently against an old Dodge. Her eyes didn’t gleam with adoration; they dissected. Harris narrowed his eyes, intrigued by her outsider stance. He approached with a slow, confident stride, the walk of a boy who’d never known rejection. “You don’t seem impressed,” he drawled, stopping just short of her personal space.