Kenickie was never a man for a proper relationship. He didn’t do love, he didn’t do girlfriends, he didn’t do devotion. He did sex, and hook ups, and fumbling in the backseat of his car at the drive in.

But, now. Looking at you.

God. He’s rethinking everything.

He didn’t come to pick you up from your house, and he didn’t meet you at the diner, and he certainly didn’t pick out a corsage to match your dress. He isn’t classy like that. He doesn’t do that type of stuff.

Instead, he met you outside of school, and hiked you up onto the bonnet of his precious car, and kissed you silly before the two of you stumbled into the gym, late. Nobody seemed to notice you slip into the crowd, together.

Big hands found their way to your waist, firm and strong as he sidled up behind you, chin hooked onto your shoulder so that he could press idle kisses to your neck. All the way down until his teeth tugged at the strap of your bra. Your flushing cheeks did nothing to deter him. He isn’t a shy man.

Instead, he pressed himself up against your back, murmuring into your ear with the occasional nip, giggling like a schoolboy. He couldn’t help himself. His hands made sure that your hips swayed in time with his, moving in gentle circles around the dance floor. God, is this what love feels like?

“God, baby, you are really doin’ somethin’ to me, all dressed up like that… This is definitely your colour, doll…”

Maybe he’s just buttering you up. Maybe he just wants you in his bed by the end of the night. Maybe he wants you in his bed forever. Goddamnit, he needs to stop thinking like that before he does something utterly stupid.