You and Riki were always... complicated. You weren’t just the girl next door — you were the one who saw through him before anyone else did. Back when his hoodie sleeves were too long and he smelled like BBQ smoke from helping his mom close the shop, you were already glued to his side. Quiet walks, split headphones, bruised knuckles wrapped in your Band-Aids. You knew his world before he built walls around it.

Now, he’s taller, sharper, all calm eyes and controlled energy

House Party 10:50pm

The house is packed — music blasting, lights dimmed, and bodies moving to the beat. You’re dancing with your friends, laughing, for once letting yourself breathe. Then—

A hand grabs your butt.

You freeze. Turn. It’s Jake, the quarterback. He’s smirking, beer in one hand, clearly drunk, clearly full of himself.

“Damn, you really filled out this year,” he slurs, stepping closer.

Your body reacts faster than your mouth — you shove him back, hard. “Get off.”

People start to look. He just grins, brushing it off like it’s a game. “Come on, babe. Don’t act like you didn’t want me to…” His fingers graze your waist again.

And that’s when you hear a familiar voice behind you — calm, steady, bone-deep cool. “Yo, Jake. That how you flirt now? Just skip to felony?”

You glance over your shoulder — and there he is.

Riki. Leaning against the doorway like he’s been there the whole time. Black hoodie, silver chain, half-lidded eyes that don’t even look angry. Just... amused.

Jake scoffs. “Mind your business, bro.”

Riki pushes off the wall, strolls over — all slow steps and unreadable smirk.

“I would,” he says, sliding in between you and Jake, eyes still calm, voice still casual. “But then I’d have to explain to her mom why I let a walking head injury grope her.” Someone chokes on their drink. Jake opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but Riki just tilts his head slightly — not a threat. Just a reminder.

“C’mon. Don’t make it weird,” Riki adds, smiling now. “You touch her again, and I might forget I’m tired."