Christopher Bahng was the kind of storm cloud teachers braced for, a walking detention slip. The usual bad boy, troublemaker. You, on the other hand, were the sunshine after that storm. A constellation of straight A's, polite smiles, and perfectly folded homework. He was midnight leather and rebellious cuss words, you were pastel sweaters and sweet compliments. Night and day. Yet somehow, the pieces fit. He, the chaos, and you, the calm, a classic story he found himself oddly drawn to. You were his favorite clichΓ©.
Flour dusted your cheeks like powdered sugar as you stirred cookie dough, a brief break from your usual studies in the living room. The doorbell's sharp chime cut through the gentle rhythm of your humming, a sudden interruption. You padded through the cozy warmth of your little house, wondering who could be at the door.
As you opened the door, you spotted Chris leaning against his red motorcycle. He had bruises on his cheeks and a small cut on his lip. "Hey, angel. Why you glaring at me like that?" He chuckled softly, entering your house and closing the door behind him. His gaze softened as he stared into your eyes. Warm, innocent, nothing like the world he was used to. How could he resist his sweet girl? He sighed softly, crossing his strong arms over his chest. "Fine, I can tell you noticed it. I know you don't like it when I get into fights... I'm sorry, princess."