THE PUSH AND THE PULL

I was doing a great job avoiding Leo. A fantastic job, really.

Sure, my heart still did that stupid flip thing every time I spotted him across the courtyard — leaning against his motorcycle like he belonged in a music video. And yeah, maybe I took the long way to class just to avoid passing him in the halls. But that was strategy, not fear.

Totally.

And it was working. Until it wasn't.

Because Leo Owens wasn't the kind of guy you could ignore for long.

"Morning, Parker."

My whole body froze at the sound of his voice. I hadn't even made it to my locker yet, and there he was — leaning against the wall like he'd been waiting for me.

Damn him and his perfect timing.

"Morning," I said, keeping my eyes fixed on my phone. Maybe if I acted uninterested enough, he'd get the hint.

No such luck.

"Been quiet lately," he said, his voice all slow and lazy. "Thought you'd still be following me around with those curious little eyes of yours."

I snorted, finally looking up. "Please. Don't flatter yourself."

He grinned, and it was the kind of grin that made my skin heat in the most annoying way. "Too late."

I rolled my eyes and pushed past him, but of course, he fell into step beside me. "So… what happened, Parker? We had our little ride, you got your material, and then you vanished. Starting to think you're avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you," I snapped way too quickly.

"Yeah?" He tilted his head. "Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm not—" Ugh. This guy. "Maybe I just have better things to do than follow some wannabe rebel around."

"Ouch," he said, clutching his chest like I'd wounded him. "Guess I'll have to try harder to keep your attention."

My locker was in sight, thank God, but Leo wasn't done yet. He leaned in, his voice dropping low enough that my skin broke out in goosebumps. "Or maybe you just don't like how easy it is for me to keep it."

I slammed my locker shut and spun around. "I—"

But he was already walking away, hands in his pockets, that stupid cocky stride making me want to scream.

"You're impossible!" I called after him.

"Don't pretend you don't love it, Parker," he shot back without even turning around.

Oh. My. God.

By the time I got home, I was still seething.

"Rough day?" Bill asked from the couch, not even looking up from his phone.

I ignored him.

"Let me guess," he continued, grinning. "Has something to do with a certain motorcycle-riding bad boy?"

I froze halfway up the stairs. "You really need a hobby, Bill."

"Oh, but this is so much fun," he said, eyes sparkling. "You know, you write about him an awful lot for someone who claims not to care."

"I don't write about him—"

"Not directly, sure. But I've seen the posts, Billie. You think no one notices the way you sneak him into everything now? Face it — you're obsessed."

I whirled around, pointing a finger at him. "I am not obsessed!"

Bill just raised his eyebrows. "Prove it."

I hated him. I hated him so much.

But fine. He wanted proof? I'd give him proof.

[Pink Savage Exclusive]

Let's talk about bad boys, shall we?

They're all the same, aren't they? The leather jackets, the motorcycles, the whole too cool to care vibe. It's a walking cliché. And yet — we fall for it every time.

But here's the thing, Savage readers. Bad boys? They're never as exciting as they seem. The mystery fades. The rebellion gets old. And that whole I-don't-play-by-the-rules thing? Please. Half the time, they're just scared little boys pretending they're too tough to feel anything.

So maybe we should stop falling for the act. Maybe we should stop wasting our time wondering what their story is — because sometimes, there's nothing under the surface but hot air.

Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe there's more to the story than we think.

Guess we'll find out. 💋

I hit post and sat back, feeling smug and satisfied.

But that feeling didn't last long.

Because I'd barely set my phone down when it buzzed with a text.

Leo: Cute post. Care to say it to my face?

Oh. Crap.

*-*

I stared at my phone like it had just slapped me.

Leo: Cute post. Care to say it to my face?

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Bill's laughter floated from downstairs, and I was this close to chucking my phone at the wall.

But then the phone buzzed again.

Leo: Or are you gonna keep pretending you don't care?

My fingers flew over the screen before my brain could catch up.

Me: You wish I cared.

The dots appeared immediately.

Leo: You do, Parker. You care so much it's adorable.

My face burned. I was going to kill him. Actually, no — I was going to kill Bill first, then Leo. And I was going to enjoy it.

Before I could come up with a comeback, there was a knock on my window.

My window.

I nearly dropped my phone as I whipped around — and sure enough, there he was. Leo. Perched on the tree outside my room like some kind of infuriatingly attractive delinquent.

I yanked the window open. "Are you insane?" I hissed. "What are you doing here?"

He grinned. "You didn't answer my question."

"Which one?" I asked, exasperated. "The one where you accused me of caring, or the one where you proved you're a complete psychopath?"

He shrugged. "Both."

I was going to lose my mind.

"I swear, Leo, if you fall and break your neck—"

"Worried about me?" he teased, and I wanted to slam the window shut.

Instead, I crossed my arms and glared. "What do you want?"

"To keep your readers entertained," he said easily. "You want a real story, Parker? You're gonna have to spend a lot more time with me."

Oh. My. God.

"I hate you," I said, even as my heart pounded way too hard.

"No, you don't," he replied with that maddeningly confident smirk. "And if you want me to prove it… meet me tomorrow. Eight o'clock. You know where."

He didn't wait for my answer. He just hopped down from the tree — landing way too gracefully — and disappeared into the night.

I stood there, stunned and furious and way too flustered.

And worst of all?

I knew I was going to meet him.