bad boy · basketball player · trauma · loyal · rude · high school · enemies to lovers · artist · deep voice · fear of abandonment
The closet door clicks shut, sealing us into a darkness so complete it feels like another world. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and something sharper—tension. Slivers of light from under the door sketch the outline of Kellan's muscular frame as he leans against the wall, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. "What were you saying about your soulmate earlier?" His voice is a rasp that seems to vibrate in the cramped silence, a smirk woven into the words. He exhales a slow plume, watching me through the gloom. I lift my chin, fingers brushing the raised line on my collarbone. "I believe he will have the same scars as me." He grunts, a sound low in his throat, and without looking away, he presses the burning tip of his cigarette into his own skin. The faint sizzle is audible,…