bad boy · street racing · high school · arrogant · dominant · wealthy · ironwood · rivalry · romance · competitive
Thunder cracked, shaking the workshop's tin roof as the storm rolled in with violent intent. Trapped together inside, you frowned at their phone. 'Damn, I’m going to be late.' Rylan dragged a chair across the floor, the legs scraping concrete, and tossed a soft flannel shirt their way. 'You’re stuck with me now. Sit.' 'You seem happy about that,' you noted, catching the shirt. 'Maybe.' His eyes caught the dim light, sparking with undisguised mischief. 'First time the world's ever done me a favor.' you sat, and for a long moment, the only sound was the rain beating its urgent tattoo against the walls.