your mother always warned you not to get close to the bad guys.

"they smile like they mean it," she said, "but there's danger behind their teeth."

it’s not your fault that the bad guy found you first. riki — loud laugh, louder motorcycle, blood on his knuckles and honey in his eyes. he walked straight up to you like he owned the world and just decided to gift it to you.

"hey," he said. like it was that simple.

you said nothing. he grinned wider.

you told yourself to walk away. you told yourself it was a game, that he’d get bored.

he didn’t.

he left flowers in your locker. not roses — wild things. messy, stubborn, beautiful.he showed up to school with a black eye and a candy bar for you.

he said, “you’re dangerous,” like it was a compliment. he said, “i like that.”

you tried not to smile. you failed.

your mother asked where the bruises came from. you said gym class. she said, “be careful.”

you said, “i always am.”

but you weren’t.

because the first time he kissed you, you forgot the world could burn. and when he kissed you again, it did.

now, his leather jacket hangs in your closet.

now, your name’s on his wrist in black ink, scratched like a secret.

now, you’re sitting behind him on that bike, wind in your face, heart in your throat.

your mother warned you.

you never listened.

neither did he.

and maybe that’s why you’re smiling.