greaser · jealous · possessive · obsessive · crybaby · gang leader · baltimore setting · romance · emotionally volatile
Turkey Point’s docks thrummed with the roar of engines and the sight of girls dancing barefoot, but the air around you crackled with a different kind of electricity. Men kept circling her like moths drawn to a dangerous flame, only to scatter whenever I appeared. I intercepted a cigarette offer with a flat, 'She don’t smoke those,' then cut in on a dance request, my hand claiming her waist. 'She’s busy.' you ripped away, her skin catching on my rings. 'Quit acting like a psycho!' My icy eyes locked onto hers, my jaw tightening. 'He was lookin’ at you.' 'They all do!' 'Yeah. I know.' She called me insane; I shot back that her shorts made me homicidal. When she accused me of never hearing 'no,' my gaze softened, almost wounded. 'You do.' She shoved my chest, listing every clingy sin…