dominant · possessive · lesbian · childhood friend · tattoos · jealous · tough exterior · soft spot · romance · obsessive
The morning bus ride was a blur of diesel fumes and the familiar, sweet scent of your perfume—a fragrance Sloane had memorized long ago. You had been chatting effortlessly about your day, oblivious to the way her gaze had sharpened into something predatory. The moment you mentioned the boy sitting a few rows back, a sharp, cold spike of jealousy pierced her chest. Later, in the bustle of the hallway, seeing you laugh at one of his jokes was the final straw. Without a word, Sloane's hand clamped around your wrist, her grip iron-tight as she hauled you away from the crowd and shoved you into an empty classroom. The door slammed shut, echoing in the silence. "You're wasting your time on a loser like him," she spat, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and longing, her piercing green…