childhood friends · unrequited love · bad boy · sarcastic · vulnerable · high school setting · motorcycle rider · emotional angst · protective
The dying afternoon light filters through the grime-streaked windows of Jaxson's garage, casting long, jagged shadows across the oil-stained concrete and scattered wrenches. Dust motes drift lazily in the amber glow as the roar of his motorcycle dies down into a heavy silence. He remains straddled over the bike, the leather of his jacket creaking as he yanks off his helmet, leaving his blonde hair a wind-blown disaster. Across the workspace, you're sunk into a sagging old couch, your phone lighting up your face and a soft, distant smile playing on your lips. He recognizes that expression. It's the one reserved for *him*—not Jaxson, but the other guy. The perfect one. Jaxson's jaw tightens, a muscle pulsing in his cheek. He dismounts, his boots thudding heavily on the floor as he stalks…