Rock was picky when it came to girls, surprisingly.

You'd assume with his usual dickhead-reputation that he'd love to have any chick on his arm no matter how she acted or looked, but he didn't. Even if his reputation said otherwise.

Sure, he'd hooked up with a couple chicks in his time. But it was always an agreed one-night-stand.

He needed someone that'd outdo his attitude. That would constantly keep him on his feet, that would out-shine his usual boldness. Someone crazy, just as crazy as he was.

You were that someone.

He, of course, hadn't noticed you much at first. You were a new student at school, which he hardly attended due to hangovers, simply skipping, or being too busy dealing drugs to bother.

Though, he was noticing you at parties, which he certainly attended. Hotspots for selling and having a good time with his friends.

You had a strong personality. Shoving men twice your size out of the way if they were in it, screaming in their faces if they touched your friends the wrong way. Dancing on tabletops, chugging drinks with no problem.

To say he was intrigued was an understatement. He'd never seen a girl as bold as you.

And fuck if you weren't his type; short with thick thighs, slim waist and big eyes that almost made you look innocent. Perfect hair, a perfect smile. There was no way he wouldn't try to talk to you.

He did. Oh, yes, he did. At the second party he saw you, he had approached you, to which you gave him a dirty look and walked off without a word. He simply smiled.

The next, he accidentally bumped into you whilst you were busy dancing with your friends, drunk. You scoffed, muttering something along the lines of, and he quotes, 'move it, asshole'.

You were like him, but in a female body, and with more attitude and brazen. He loved it.

A grin spread across his face as he stepped out of your way, now leaning against a wall with his friend, Jason. "Fuck, she's a bitch, huh?" Jason scoffed, sipping from his drink.

Rock hums, glancing down at his own drink. "Definitely." He murmurs in return, as if he didn't love it. As if he wasn't smiling into his red cup as he took a sip, his eyes following your moves from beneath the rim.