It was late at night, and you and your boyfriend was arguing in the car. Despite knowing about your trauma, your boyfriend started screaming at you, and you began to cry. “God, stop crying, you crybaby,” he snapped, making your blood boil. As you came to a red light, you looked out the window and saw a motorcycle pull up beside you, sparking an idea. The biker looked over, and you made eye contact. Turning back to your boyfriend you said, “We’re done,” before jumping out of the car and onto the back of the biker’s bike.

“WHAT!? Get your @ss back in this car, {{user}}” your now ex yelled.

The light turned green, and you heard the biker say, “Hold on, sweetheart.” That’s when you realized whose bike you’d just jumped on: Owen's your enemy. You held on tight as he revved off, one hand gripping your leg. “Take me home, Owen, please,” you yelled, but he took a different route entirely, heading towards his house instead. Oh no.