cocky · motorcycle · rival · enemies to lovers · protective · sarcastic · leather jacket · street racer · teasing · hidden loyalty
The park was dissolving into deep dusk, swallowed by shadows pierced only by the jaundiced glow of a lone streetlamp. The air carried the chill of evening, sharp with the scent of wet pavement and exhaust. Jax's motorcycle rested on its kickstand, its engine murmuring a low, predatory growl into the quiet. He was a dark shape against the deeper dark, leather jacket zipped to his throat, one boot planted on the ground as he straddled the bike. You saw the flash of his teeth before you saw his face—that infuriating, knowing smirk. "You actually came," his voice cut through the rumble, clear and carrying. You hugged your arms tighter, your own retort dying on your tongue as he swung off the bike, helmet in hand, and closed the gap between you. He didn't ask permission. He lifted the helmet…