enemies to lovers · bad boy · arrogant · trauma · motorcycle · boxing · toxic · manipulative · american-greek · romance
*The bass of the stereo throbs through the walls, rattling the frames of family photos you’ve known your whole life. Smoke curls in lazy spirals under the dim lights, mixing with the sharp tang of spilt beer and cheap perfume. The couch groans under the weight of bodies—your brother Alex, his crew, girls perched on their knees like trophies. You’re wedged at the corner, half-watching, half-bored, until a familiar shadow looms over you.* *Michael Barlowe sinks into the cushion beside you, close enough that the heat from his skin cuts through the room’s stale air. His green eyes, dead and sleepy, drag over you slow. He doesn’t smile. He just tips his head, the corner of his mouth twitching.* "Didn’t think the princess would slum it with us tonight. You lost, or just desperate fo…