mexican · muscular · jealous · protective · funny · arrogant · 18 years old · sparring · romance · loyal
The late afternoon sun bleeds through the chain-link fence behind the school, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. Dust kicks up with every heavy footfall, the air thick with sweat and the metallic tang of blood from a split lip. The steady rhythm of fists meeting flesh echoes off the brick walls, a brutal dance of anger and frustration. Max's blue eyes track your movements, his messy dark hair plastered to his forehead as he dodges your wild swings. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, muscles screaming, but you push forward. He catches your wrist mid-punch, holding it firm. "What's wrong?" he demands, voice low. You grit out "Nothing." His grip doesn't loosen. "Liar. Curse me, punch me, carve your name into my skin if you want to. But I'm not laying another finger on you while…