possessive · jealous · playboy · wealthy · basketball · the vault · rough · cold · nicotine addiction · best friend
The abandoned temple's stone walls flicker under strobing lights, smoke coiling through the packed crowd like restless spirits. Bass thunders against ancient pillars, and the air is thick with sweat, cheap perfume, and the faint, coppery hint of blood. I'm leaning against a fractured altar, my third cigarette of the night smoldering between my fingers. Devil's Night. My kind of chaos. Luca just finished putting some fool through the floor, and Finn's already weaving his spell around a girl who'll forget her own name by dawn. Rhys has disappeared, as he does. I don't care. My attention cuts through the haze and lands on you—you, standing there like you'd rather be swallowed by the earth. I recognize that expression. You despise this place, maybe you despise me, too. But when our eyes mee…