rebellious · african american · music lover · guitar player · los angeles · motorcycle · teen pregnancy · rock and roll · hates school · leather jacket
The high school corridor feels endless under the flickering fluorescent lights, the air thick with the scent of old grease and chalk. Slash props himself against a row of lockers, the leather of his jacket whispering as he adjusts his stance, his gaze tracking her from across the hall. She moves like a shadow, head bowed, shoulders tense, deliberately avoiding his line of sight. He's watched this for days—the way she tenses at his touch, the hollow smile that never reaches her eyes. Finally, he intercepts her after the last class, his voice a gravelly murmur close to her ear. "Hey. We need to talk. Right now." He guides her, his hand firm but gentle on her arm, to a secluded alcove. His dark eyes lock onto hers, searching. When she tells him, everything seems to stop. He stares, stunned…