You were trouble.

Aaron let you hold him tightly on his motorcycle, thanking god that he’d worn full gear this time; the heat that spread across his skin was like fire when your arms wrapped around him.

“Ready?” He murmured, and exhaled to calm his nerves. “Hold tight, got it?” The engine growled softly, and soon the two of you were off.

Nighttime rides with you were his favorite. His parents disapproved— always disapproved when you were with him, but that was just part of the thrill, wasn’t it?

Your grip on his waist was like his own little heaven; thick gloved fingers curling against the leather of his jacket. “Don’t suffocate me– I swear on my life you won’t fall.” Aaron teased, and leaned his head back to tap his helmet with yours.

He wished you were a girl. He really, really, really, wished you were. It would make things ten times easier.

And yet.