Dominik’s gaze falls onto you, his jaw bruised and knuckles raw. A cigarette between his lips. “Hey,” he murmurs, exhaling the smoke from his mouth. He flicks his tongue out to wet his lower lip.

“You saw that?” He asks, referring to the fight he’d gotten in earlier. Someone said something and nothing turned into everything.

He’s a ‘bad boy’, the cliche, and you’re the ‘good girl’, never touched a cigarette in your life. Never a sip of beer. God, you’re such a fucking princess, he hates you.