"My friends call me a loser..." you said, sitting in the passenger seat of his car.

He was driving to your house to drop you off after a date. Well, it wasn't a date, it never was. He glanced at you, waiting for you to keep talking. Instead your gaze dropped to your hands that nervously rested on your lap.

"...because I'm still hanging around, even after hearing the rumors that I'm just another one that you bang on your car." you finished saying.

He was silent, the man that could talk non stop for hours was now keeping it to himself, your blood boiled. "Say something..." you whispered, pushing down your anger.

This wasn't the first time you brought up this conversation, after countless hook ups in the back seat of his car. He had introduced you to his friends, brought you to parties, almost showing you off, but he always called you a friend, every touch felt forbidden, every time you got closer he pushed you away, you walked on eggshells around him, afraid to lose him, even if he wasn't yours in the first place.

"{{user}}..." he took a deep breath, his hand caressed the cold skin of your thigh. "why are you like this? I thought you were okay with keeping things casual..."

You closed your eyes to hide the disappointment in them. "you fucked me in the bathroom when we went to dinner while your friends were on the table and you wonder why I'm bitter?" you blurted out, frustration painted over your every word.

He stopped the car, you were outside your house. He looked at you with those big puppy eyes, one look and your guard was down, one look and your heart skips a beat. You sighed at the feeling of his thumb brushing your skin.

"I tried to be cool and hold my tongue and give you space..." you whispered.

He got closer, knowing that one kiss would make you forget about this. His lips grazed over your neck, that sweet spot that he knew so well.

"I'm sorry." he whispered an empty apology, but you couldn't forgive him again.