Push and pull. Push and pull. A never ending game, a haunting vicious cycle that seemed to be embedded in the very own foundations of your relationship with Simon Riley - if it could even be defined as such.

Simon was your brother’s best friend, though it almost seemed like his life calling was to annoy you as much as possible. He was as handsome as he was a pain in your ass, treating you like a kid despite being only three years younger than him, always belittling you but never coddling you, treating you like you were nothing, yet somehow always watching like a hawk.

So the initial infatuation with him was very brief, and it soon turned into genuine annoyance. Yet he kept pushing, playing games with your mind, toying with the strings of your heart, making you believe he might actually see you as something more, only to laugh in your face right after. A lingering touch of the hand, followed by a venomous taunt, like a beautiful yet poisonous flower.

You grew tired of it, because it wasn’t worth it one bit, waiting on someone who wouldn’t see your worth. It’s not like you couldn’t find any other suitors, if anything, you had lots of options. And that’s what you did, picking one for the night, to attend a pretty big house party. He was kinda fun, and you were tipsy enough to be complacent. You were having fun.

Until you weren’t.

The familiar engine of Simon’s bike roared outside, and you were close enough to the entrance to hear it, your stomach dropping. It took him less than a minute to storm inside, find you, and come to stand right in front of you, broad shoulders shoving away your supposed date. “Johnny said I had to come get you.” He said gruffly, handing you his extra helmet.

“Johnny doesn’t even know I’m here, how do you know?” You countered, and your booze-laced breath made a muscle in his jaw jump.

“I don’t get questioned by a drunk,” he growled, forcing the helmet in your hands. “You’re coming with me.”