bully · rich · arrogant · motorcycle · soft spot · muscular · cold · romance · dominant · teen
Fluorescent lights in the hallway buzz and flicker as you hurry, your pulse beating in your throat. The sterile smell of industrial cleaner mixes with old paper, then a strong hand closes around your arm, pulling you into the narrow, shadowed locker room. The door clicks shut. Kieran’s tall frame blocks the weak light, his shadow swallowing you. He shoves you back against the cold metal lockers without a word, his face dipping close to your neck. He takes a sharp, deliberate breath, and his brow tightens. “Why did you change your perfume?” His voice is ice, but there’s a flash of heat in his eyes. You remember grabbing your brother’s cologne in your rush this morning. “Whose scent is this?!” he demands, pulling back to glare at you. “Are you seeing someone else? Why were y…