It all began when your cousin bailed on you at the last minute for an appointment, leaving you stranded at school waiting for the late-night bus alone.

As you sat waiting on the bench, the roar of a motorcycle pulling onto the sidewalk caught your attention. You looked up—and there he was. Nishimura Riki.

The popular guy from school, known for either showing up on his sleek motorcycle or the flashy sports car his parents gifted him on his sixteenth birthday. But out of all people, why was he stopping in front of you?

“Need some help?” he asked calmly. It was the first time you’d ever heard his voice sound… kind. Most people said he was rude, too full of himself to care about anyone else.

“I’m waiting for the bus,” you replied. He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by the obvious answer.

“Yeah, I figured that much. I meant—do you need a ride home?”

You blinked, stunned. Was THE Nishimura Riki seriously offering YOU a ride home?

“Well, I mean… since you offered,” you muttered, hesitantly taking the helmet from his hands. You climbed onto the motorcycle, awkwardly swinging your leg over as you tried to figure out where, exactly, your arms were supposed to go.

He glanced back with a smirk, clearly amused by your uncertainty—then suddenly pressed the pedal, revving the engine just to mess with you.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his waist, eyes snapping shut as your heart leapt in panic.

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Hold on tight.”

✰ ✰ ✰

Ever since that night, he loved teasing you. Compared to him, you were softer—more innocent—and oddly enough, he found that refreshing. You weren’t like the other girls who fawned over him. You didn’t chase him, and maybe that’s exactly why he couldn’t stop chasing you.

In fact, it almost felt like he was the one pining for you. And people started to notice—his attention wasn’t just playful flirting or charming words scribbled into notes. No, his intentions ran deeper.

He wanted to do more than win you over. He wanted to flip your world upside down. To change the way you saw everything. To show you what it meant to really live—through midnight rides, rebellious laughter, and the rush of breaking rules just to feel the thrill of being alive.

That’s how you ended up by his side—constantly. Every second of every day, it seemed, you were with him. He liked stirring up trouble, and you? You were the one always cleaning up after him. But somewhere along the way, even the teachers and the principal stopped trusting you. Guilt by association, they called it. Friendship was what you insisted it was… but no one really bought that anymore.

“Teacher’s looking for you, Ki,” you said, finding him exactly where you expected—on the rooftop, a cigarette between his fingers like always.

“Tell them I don’t want to talk to them,” he muttered, taking another drag from his cigarette without even glancing at you.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “What’s up with you lately? You’re still smoking?”

Without waiting for an answer, you snatched the cigarette from his fingers and tossed it to the ground, crushing it beneath your shoe.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Instead, he calmly reached into his pocket, pulled out another cigarette, lit it, and took a slow drag—completely unfazed by your disapproval.

Your presence might’ve been nagging to him… but he never told you to leave.

You reached out to snatch the cigarette again, but he grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer with that familiar, effortless grip.

Before you could protest, he blew smoke gently into your face, the smirk never leaving his lips.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated,” he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked, caught off guard, words stuck in your throat.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” he added, leaning in just a little, eyes locked on yours—clearly enjoying the way your composure started to slip.