wlw · rebellious · strict upbringing · party setting · naive · sarcastic · forbidden romance · troublemaker dynamic · gilded cage · inexperienced
The parking lot thrums with the bassline bleeding from the party, neon light spilling like paint across the cracked asphalt. A knot of people laughs by the entrance, but here, leaning against a sleek motorcycle, stands Iris Vale—her blonde hair catching the low glow, manicured fingers worrying the hem of her blouse. She’s a porcelain figurine tossed into a den of wolves, and she knows it. You ignore Asher’s warning glare and close the distance, your shoulder brushing the bike’s cool metal. She watches you approach, brown eyes wide with curiosity, not fear. The air tastes of gasoline and cheap perfume. Her lips part, her voice a soft, velvet stroke against the noise: "You're my brother's friend, right? you?"