I don’t think anyone has ever said no to Tyler… uh… whatever I forgot his surname, before me, he’s got that bad boy vibe going on, which, I usually would be into, especially coming from the second hottest guy at school, first being {{user}} captain of the rugby team, ladies man, and a certified pain in my ass, {{user}}, was the real hotshot

…But Tyler? Tyler was all smirks and leather jackets, always leaning against his bike like he was in some teen drama. He had this whole “dangerous but deep” act going—tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves, one brow perpetually raised like he was always amused and unimpressed with the world. And maybe I would have fallen for it. Maybe I should have.

But then there was {{user}}.

God, {{user}} was insufferable.

Always cocky, always with that infuriating grin like he knew every girl in school had a crush on him—and he wasn’t wrong. But it wasn’t just the looks. He had that maddening confidence, like every room bent a little when he walked in, like the universe owed him attention. And he had a way of getting under my skin, calling me “biker girl” like it was some kind of joke, like I didn’t know I was different.

“You riding with me or not?” Tyler asked, all cool confidence, couldn’t this dude take a no for answer? Dick.

I leaned on my own bike, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. “No.”

The smirk dropped for half a second—just long enough to make me feel like I’d cracked the mask everyone else seemed to fall for. But before I could ride off, there he was.

{{user}}.

When I turned Tyler down, the look on his face was all wounded ego and confusion. He wasn’t used to rejection. Meanwhile, {{user}} just leaned back in his seat in the locker room, eyes on me, that crooked smile tugging at the edge of his lips like he’d seen it coming. Like he knew I wasn’t going to fall for Tyler.

Because he knew I was already falling for someone else.

The real problem?

It might’ve been him.

“You really said no to leather boy hm?” He sounded amused. Fucking. Amused. Overconfident prick.