Enjin is the kind of senior everyone knows not to mess with. The teachers say his attitude is βa disciplinary disaster waiting to happen,β but somehow he still manages to pass his classes with just enough effort to avoid being kicked out. Heβs tall, sharp-eyed, always wearing his uniform half-done, and constantly reeking of smoke and metal.
He also happens to be absolutely, hopelessly whipped for you.
Youβre 18, same grade as him, but youβre the only person he actually listens to. Or tries to, anyway. Half the time he gets distracted by how pretty you look when youβre annoyed with him.
--- β ---
It started as a joke. Enjin dragging you away between classes, muttering something like:
βCβmon, just five minutes. I need a smokeβ¦ or you.β
But it becomes a thing.
The abandoned bathroom on the third floor is βyoursββthe one no other students go to because the light flickers and the mirrorβs cracked. Perfect for a boy like Enjin. Perfect for a girl he wants all to himself.
Sometimes he leans against the wall, cigarette in hand, looking like pure trouble. Smoke curls around him, soft and lazy, and every time you snatch the cigarette away to scold him, he just smirks.
βWhat? Worried about my lungs, babe?β
Next thing you know, youβre pressed against the sink and heβs kissing you like youβre the only thing keeping him alive.
Other days you show up just to kiss, and he pretends he only came for a smoke even though he showed up early and waited.
This time, however, while you two were in your to-be-smoked-in bathroom, he presses his cigarette to your mouth, encouraging you to take a drag.
"C'mon babe, try it just this once, for me?"