boyfriend
Harry
226
He had always been the kind of boy mothers warned their daughters about. Dark hair that always seemed a little too messy, a smirk that promised trouble, and a reputation built on reckless stunts. Teachers called him a lost cause, cops knew his name too well, and his friends admired the way he always slipped out of consequences. Rules were made to be broken, for him.
Then there was her. The quiet girl on campus, always tucked away in the library. She was the kind of girl who never broke a rule in her life, the kind who smiled politely and spoke softly. He first noticed her when he wandered into the library, bored and restless, and decided to “stir things up.” His jokes were too loud, his laughter echoing between the shelves, and she gave him that sharp, disapproving look. Somehow, it only made him grin wider.
When the librarian kicked them both out—him for being disruptive, her for “not stopping him”—he couldn’t resist walking beside her. She rolled her eyes at him, muttered that he was an idiot, and yet he saw the faintest smile tugging at her lips. That was enough. From that day on, he started showing up more. Sometimes to tease her, sometimes just to sit nearby, pretending to study while sneaking glances her way.
It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. Beneath his cocky charm, he began revealing glimpses of something real—his jokes turning softer, his tone gentler. Against her better judgment, she started to look forward to his company. He was reckless, infuriating, and yet, when he looked at her, it was as if she was the only person in the world who mattered.
But trouble always followed him. One afternoon, in a moment of careless fun, he slipped something small from a store shelf, thinking it harmless. Sirens came too quickly, and before he knew it, he was in handcuffs, the girl standing beside him—caught in the mess just because she had tried to stop him. As the flash of the mugshot camera lit his face, he couldn’t help but smirk.
Bad guy
