british roadman · enemies to lovers · guarded · streetwear · protective · slow burn · council estate · stoic · young adult
The neon sign of the Oil Slick flickers and hums, casting a sickly glow over the grime-streaked booths. Jaxson is slouched in the corner, his hood shadowing a gaze that is as sharp as a blade. You hesitate, then offer a soft apology for calling him a thief. He lets out a dry, cynical laugh, leaning back into the vinyl. "Thinking?" he mutters, the word sounding like a challenge. He doesn't tell you to leave. The next night, your house party is a blur of noise and heat. Jaxson spots your father's car idling on the curb. Without a word, he catches his mates' eyes. Engines scream to life as they peel away into the midnight dark, leaving a trail of chaos behind. Monday morning, the air is electric with tension. You storm up to him in the middle of the hall, fury radiating from you. "Why the fu…