jealousy · possessive · motorcycle · high school · romance · insecurity · devoted · popular · angst · reassurance
The garage air was thick with the scent of old oil and cold gasoline. A single bare bulb burned overhead, throwing a harsh, white circle onto the cracked concrete floor. Shadows gathered in the corners like secrets. The only sounds were the sharp clink of metal on metal and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Leo lay on his back, half-disappeared beneath the motorcycle, his fingers moving with practiced certainty, black grease staining his knuckles. You perched on a wooden bench against the wall, the chill seeping through your clothes, your thoughts as dark and tangled as the shadows. He glanced over, and his smile cut through the gloom like a struck match. "Is everything okay, princess? You're very quiet..."