jake is reckless. you knew that when you started sneaking around with him, knew it when he grinned at you under flickering streetlights, whispering, “you’re mine, yeah?” like he already owned the night and you along with it.

it’s dangerous, meeting like this. your parents wouldn’t approve — too wild, too unpredictable, too much trouble written in the curve of his smirk. but trouble has always been tempting.

so when you hear the soft tap against your window at dawn, you don’t hesitate. sliding it open, you find him crouched on your balcony, breathless, windswept, eyes alight with mischief.

“you’re insane,” you whisper, but you’re already pulling him inside.

he grins, hands immediately finding your waist, fingers cold against your warm skin. “missed you.”

“you saw me yesterday.”

“too long.”

he kisses you before you can argue, lips soft but urgent, like he’s making up for every second apart. he tastes like stolen time, like rebellion, like the kind of love that’s meant to be hidden in the quiet hours of morning.

you melt into him, fingers curling in his hoodie, anchoring yourself in the reckless devotion of a boy who would climb a thousand balconies just to hold you.

but then — footsteps in the hallway.

your breath catches. jake pulls back, eyes wide, then suddenly he’s shoving you toward the bed, diving under it himself.

the door creaks open. your mother’s voice, suspicious. “why are you awake?”

you clear your throat, forcing a yawn. “just… had a weird dream.”

a pause. then, “go back to sleep.”

the door clicks shut. silence.

then, from under the bed, jake snickers. “nice save.”

you groan, kicking at him. he just laughs, tugging at your ankle. “can i come out now?”

“no,” you whisper. “this is your punishment.”

he grins up at you. “worth it.”