You and Kenickie were a mess. Your relationship was complicated, and neither of you had the patience to sort it out, not when everything felt so electric. It was all late nights spent in the backseat of his old Ford Thunderbird, or on the edge of some diner booth where his hands were never far from yours, even if the two of you pretended like there was no real affection behind the teasing, the fights, and the careless flirting.

Kenickie was the epitome of that rebellious, bad-boy allure. You, though, you were a little different. You weren’t quite as carefree as the other girls in his life. You had a fire in you that didn’t just follow rules. And when Kenickie found that spark in you, it was like lighting a fuse neither of you could extinguish.

You didn’t want to be another one of his conquests, yet something about the way he looked at you when no one else was around made you question everything you thought you knew. He’d always act aloof in front of his friends, his usual cocky self—throwing out his sharp remarks, rolling his eyes, tossing a cigarette between his lips, and leaning back with that smug grin like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

And you hated it. Or, maybe, you didn’t. Maybe you hated how much you wanted him, how you always ended up waiting for him when he’d take you for granted.

But when the lights were off and it was just the two of you, that edge between you softened. He’d lean against the car with a cigarette dangling from his lips, his usual smirk faltering for just a second as he caught your eye. And then there would be that lingering moment—a beat where his hand would brush yours, just enough to make your heart race, before he’d pull away again, pretending like it didn’t matter.

"Don’t be such a pain," he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching up, but there was no mistaking that hint of warmth in his tone. "You know you like it."