PLAYING WITH FIRE

That night, I knew I shouldn't do it.

Every rational part of my brain was waving a giant red flag, screaming at me to chill. Lay low. Be smart for once in my life. Especially now that the new guy was… noticing me. And not in the "just another girl in the hallway" kind of way. His eyes had lingered a little too long at lunch today — and let's be honest, I'd been replaying that look like it was my favorite song.

But where's the fun in playing it safe?

Curiosity wasn't just my brand — it was my lifeblood. And right now, it was pulsing through my veins, fast and reckless.

The room was dim, the only light coming from my laptop screen. The low hum of the ceiling fan barely cut through the heat of the night, and somewhere outside, a dog barked once before everything fell silent again. The air felt thick — like even the universe was holding its breath, waiting for me to make the wrong move.

I cracked my knuckles, the sound sharp and satisfying in the quiet. My fingers hovered over the keys, and that familiar rush swept over me — the kind of adrenaline that only came when I was about to stir up a little chaos.

And really, what was a girl like me supposed to do when temptation came knocking? Ignore it? Please.

[Pink Savage Exclusive]

Breaking News, Savage readers: Our favorite new mystery boy might not be so mysterious after all. Word on the street is he belongs to Principal Owens. That's right — the man, the myth, the king of detention himself.

But let's be real… does anyone really buy it? I mean, look at him. Too cute to be his cousin. Too much baddie to belong to that family. I bet this boy hasn't done his homework a day in his life.

What's your story, Motorcycle Boy? Enquiring minds want to know. 💋

The second I hit post, my heart did a weird little flip — part excitement, part oh-my-god-what-did-I-just-do.

The thrill was instant, like the spark before a firework explodes. But under it, there was a slow creep of something else. Something colder. Regret.

I pushed it down, telling myself it was fine. It was just a post — words on a screen. What was the worst that could happen?

But deep down, I knew the truth.

I was playing with fire.

But damn, the flames are so tempting to play with so don't burn yourself.

The post was up. And maybe — just maybe — I'd crossed a line. Again.

But when had that ever stopped me before?

My phone started blowing up almost immediately. Comments. DMs. Everyone was eating it up. The Savage readers wanted more about Motorcycle Boy, and honestly… so did I.

The attention felt good. It always did. But as I lay back on my bed, the glow of my laptop still lighting up my room, that tiny, annoying voice in the back of my head spoke up.

You're making this personal. Again.

I pushed the thought aside. I didn't need that kind of self-reflection right now. Besides, it was just one little post. What was the worst that could happen?

…Right?

---

The next day, I got my answer.

And it came at me like a brick wall. A very attractive brick wall.

"Watch where you're going, Parker."

The voice was low and rough, and I swear my heart jumped into my throat.

I stumbled back, looking up — and there he was. Motorcycle Boy.

The universe clearly hated me.

Up close, he was even more ridiculous. The kind of jawline you only saw on TV, dark hair that fell perfectly without even trying, and the eyes — oh my God, the eyes. Sharp and way too observant.

I opened my mouth to say something — anything — but then he narrowed those eyes at me.

"You like staring at me," he said, his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. "Or is that just your thing?"

My brain short-circuited. "I—what?"

"Oh, come on." He tilted his head, like he was studying me. "First, you watch me like you're taking notes. And then I see this little blog post about me?"

My heart stopped. Completely.

"W-What blog post?" I tried, because I'm a professional liar.

He just smiled. And it was not a friendly smile.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Your secret's safe. For now."

For now?! Oh, hell no.

"Listen here, Motorcycle Boy—"

He grinned. "Leo."

"What?"

"My name," he said. "Since you're so curious."

And then he just walked off. Like he hadn't just ruined my entire day.

I stood there, frozen, heart pounding and face flushed.

How did he know my name?

Why would he say that?

And more importantly… what the hell did he mean by "for now"?

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

I burst into the nearest bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and tried to calm down. My hands were still shaking — with panic, with frustration, with… something else I didn't want to name.

He knew my name. And he knew about the blog.

I needed an outlet. Now.

So I pulled out my phone, and before my common sense could stop me, I started typing.

[Pink Savage Exclusive]

🚨 Red alert, Savage readers! 🚨

I said it once, I'll say it again — Pink Savage is never wrong. And our favorite new bad boy just keeps proving it. You ever meet someone who oozes trouble in the best possible way? That's Leo. Yeah, you heard me. Leo. Even his name is a little too on-brand — bold, cocky, and definitely the type who loves the attention.

I mean, come on — you saw him. The leather jacket? The motorcycle? That 'I-don't-play-by-the-rules' attitude? He's basically a walking cliché… and yet, somehow, I'm not even mad about it.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. The real question is: what's his deal? What's a guy like him doing at a school like ours? And why do I get the feeling he's going to make my life a whole lot more interesting — and a whole lot more complicated?

Stay tuned, my little savages. This one's just getting started. 💋

I hit post before I could think twice and took a deep breath.

There. That was better. Probably.

But my relief didn't last long.

When I walked into class, my stomach dropped.

Because guess who was sitting in the seat directly behind mine?

Yep. Leo.

He stretched out like he owned the place, one arm slung lazily over the back of his chair — and when our eyes met, he smiled. The kind of slow, knowing smile that made me want to either punch him or melt into the floor.

"Hey, Parker," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Nice post."

I was so DOOMED.

I froze in my seat, my whole body going still like a deer in headlights.

"Nice post," Leo repeated, his voice low and smug.

My brain scrambled for a response, but everything came up empty. I turned slowly, glaring at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He just raised an eyebrow. "Sure you don't."

The worst part? He wasn't even trying. He looked completely relaxed — like this was all a game to him. And I? I was losing.

"Maybe you've got me confused with someone else," I said, my voice sweet and fake.

Leo tilted his head, studying me like he was trying to figure me out. "Maybe," he said finally. "But I doubt it."

Before I could come up with a snappy comeback, the teacher walked in — and I had no choice but to face forward.

But I could feel him behind me. Every time I shifted in my seat, I was hyper-aware of his presence. And the worst part? I swear I could feel him watching me.

By the time class ended, I was a mess. I shoved my books into my bag and practically ran for the door — but I didn't get far.

"Hey, Parker."

I stopped. Closed my eyes. Counted to three. Then turned around.

"What?" I snapped.

Leo grinned, and it was infuriatingly charming. "Relax. I just wanted to know one thing."

I folded my arms. "What?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping so low it sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "Do I really look like someone who never does his homework?"

I wanted to die. Right there in the hallway.

He was quoting my blog post.

I opened my mouth to respond — but nothing came out. Because my brain had officially short-circuited.

Leo just chuckled, brushing past me like he hadn't just destroyed my entire life. "See you around, Parker."

I stood there, rooted to the spot, heart pounding, face burning.

This was getting out of hand.

And somehow, I had the distinct feeling it was only going to get more interesting and I mean that in the worst way you can think of.