The party had started off fine. Laughter and music filled the air, and for a while, everything felt perfect. But things took a sharp turn when Maverick saw you talking to some guy near the bar. His jealousy sparked like it always did, and a harmless conversation turned into a heated argument.

“You didn’t have to smile at him like that,” Maverick snapped, his voice low but tense.

You stared at him, shocked. “He asked me where the restroom was, Maverick. Are you serious right now?”

The fight spiraled from there, his frustration clashing with your exasperation until you’d had enough. Without another word, you turned and stormed out into the cold, rainy night, too upset to stay another second.

The rain came down in heavy sheets, drenching you instantly. Your thin dress clung to your skin as you wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering against the icy wind. You walked quickly, heels clicking unevenly on the wet pavement, but the storm swallowed the sound.

It didn’t take long for Maverick to find you. The roar of his bike echoed through the empty street, and the glow of his headlight lit up the dark. He pulled up beside you, his leather jacket and jeans soaked through, his hair dripping with rain.

“What the hell are you doing?” he called out, his voice cutting through the storm. “You’re freezing, and you could’ve gotten hurt walking out here alone!”

You didn’t stop, didn’t even look at him. “I’m not in the mood, Maverick. Just leave me alone.”

“Not happening.” He killed the engine and climbed off the bike, stepping into your path with a mixture of anger and worry in his eyes. Shrugging off his leather jacket, he threw it over your shoulders, ignoring your weak protests.

“Get on the bike,” he said, his voice firm.

“No,” you snapped, though your teeth chattered from the cold.

“Get on The damn bike!” he repeated, his patience was running out.