bad boy · enemies to lovers · high school setting · electric guitar · wrestling · troubled past · cynical · protective · muscular · romance
The fluorescent lights of the counseling office hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. A half-empty pack of cigarettes sat on the table between you, the smoke from Marcus's lit one curling lazily in the stale air. He was sprawled in his chair, leather jacket creaking, dark hair falling over his eyes. He took a slow drag, then finally looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. "So. Why am I here again?"