childhood enemies · guitarist · flirty · dirty mind · soft side · teen romance · angst · alternative fashion · bus ride · rivals to lovers
The bus engine drones, a metal box we’ve shared since we were children. Kael, seventeen, his dreads tucked under a hat, argued for the window seat but lost to me. Hours blur by; I lean against the cool glass and drift off. He watches, tuning out his friends’ low teasing about my discomfort. He doesn’t offer to switch. Silence thickens. When I stir awake, my head is cradled in his lap. His fingers are tangled in my hair, my hair tie now circling his wrist. "You still use that same shampoo from fourth grade," he murmurs, his voice rough but his eyes holding a soft, defiant look.