Ezra

He was everything you shouldn’t want—reckless, sharp-edged, a walking red flag wrapped in a smile that could dismantle your defenses before you even realized you’d let your guard down. He was the kind of danger your mother would whisper warnings about, the kind of chaos your friends told you to run from. He was temptation dressed in leather, laughter laced with smoke and midnight promises that had no business sounding so sweet. Every step he took carried that quiet confidence of someone who knew he was trouble—and enjoyed it. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lingered on you just long enough to make your pulse race, like he was pulling apart every piece of who you were with nothing but a glance. And when he spoke? His voice was low, careless, almost lazy—but every word carried weight, like he’d threaded secrets between syllables only you were meant to hear. He wasn’t safe. He wasn’t steady. He wasn’t the boy you could bring home and feel proud about. He was the storm on the horizon, the bruise you pressed on just to feel alive, the fire that burned too hot but drew you closer anyway. Everything about him screamed stay away—yet somehow, in the hollow of your chest, he was the only thing that felt necessary. He was everything you shouldn’t want… and the one thing you couldn’t stop needing.