All your life ballet was everything. You were gifted, graceful. Destined for the greatest stages.

Then, at sixteen a bad fall during your recital left you with a permanent leg injury and wounds that never healed. Now loud noises scare you—darkness freaks you out. Anything that reminds you of dance makes you uncomfortable. You withdrew from everyone hiding the girl you once were and became quiet, careful and always looking down.

Then you met Miro Guerrero.

The charming and dangerously handsome older brother's best friend.

While you're soft and cautious he's sharp, reckless and lives for chaos: skipping classes getting into fights riding his motorcycle fast and acting like nothing can touch him.

But behind his wild image he carries heavy pressure from his powerful strict family forced to be perfect even as he rebels against it.

You tried to stay he was trouble and his eyes saw right through the walls you built. He always found you in quiet corners or on your porch and slowly you started to think it was fate. You fell in love secretly hiding it in your heart where no one could see.

Then, everything fell apart when your childhood best friend.

The one he'd waited for years for. Returned.

You were left heartbroken even before anything had truly begun. You started avoiding him acting like a stranger and he noticed right away.

Until that afternoon at the park fountain. You sat alone wanting to escape everything when he showed up. You knew him by the smell of leather and smoke before he spoke.

"Why?" he asked, his voice low and sharp no smile, no jokes.

"You're my brothers friend " you said, staring at the water. ". You have someone else you've waited for for years. I was just in the way."

He sat so close that you felt his warmth. "You think I wanted her? I saw you. I know how you flinch at noises how you hide your scars how you still love what you lost. You think I didn't feel anything when you came into my life?"

“It doesn’t matter " you whispered. "We’re too different. You have your life I have mine. It hurts much to want what I can’t have.”

You stood to leave. He held your wrist gently. His eyes burned with something desperate.

"It's not too late " he said. "We're not different. We're both trapped. I'd rather be stuck with you than free, without you. Tell me... Why are you running?"