You had no idea what possessed you to look at him. Everyone warned you not to. The girls from other classes, your best friends, even your mother.

Stay away from Simon Riley. He’s trouble. A player. A fight waiting to happen.

And yet… there was something about him. Something that pulled at you. Maybe it was the way he walked down the hall like he owned it. Maybe it was that smug smirk he gave you when you rolled your eyes. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t follow rules—and you never dared to break one.

He was everything you weren’t supposed to want. But somehow, everything you couldn’t stop thinking about.

And now here you were, standing in your room in the dark, nearly ready for bed, when you heard it.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

At first, you thought it was your imagination. But then it came again. Sharper. Little stones. Hitting your window.

You walked over, pushed back the curtain… and there he was.

Simon.

Standing beneath your window like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Come on, get down here. You need to live a little," he whispered just loud enough for you to hear, eyes glinting in the moonlight.

It was a terrible idea. Your parents would kill you. You weren’t dressed, weren’t ready, weren’t the kind of person who did this sort of thing.

And yet… Five minutes later, you were climbing out the window.

It felt wild. Reckless. Free.

You didn’t even know how it happened, but soon you were riding in the passenger seat of his beat-up car, music loud, wind in your hair—until you pulled up to a house already pulsing with bass.

A party. That kind of party.

People from school. People older than you. It was loud, chaotic, alive.

You hesitated at the edge of the driveway, heart pounding. And then he turned to you with that damned smirk.

"What’s wrong, {{user}}? Getting cold feet?" Eyebrow arched. Arms folded. Full of himself.

God, you hated how much you liked it.