— this dash is so hot. grayson who? wtf is that
this imagine is the same idea as the one part from Living With The Bad Boy (I think)
your pov
i skipped down the stairs, ethan no where in sight. my eyebrows furrow together, as i stand lost.
then the stairs creek and i sigh in relief.
"there you are eth- grayson?" he winks at me as he slips his shirt over his head.
"not ethan, but better." i scoff, shaking my head, "c'mon, babe. ethan went out to get something at ryan's house so i have to drive me."
i 'ew' and shiver in disgust, "fine, where's your car?" i ask, slinging my bag over my shoulder, slipping on my shoes.
"you see, babe. don't have one." he says, grabbing his bag as well.
"oh yeah! you're a stereotypical bad boy, i see." i say, smacking my forehead.
he chuckles softly at me, his tone raspy, "let's go." he says as he grabs the small key.
i nod my head, following him out of their house. the bike sits in their driveway and he tosses me a helmet, which i surprisingly catch.
"put it on," he instructs, throwing his bag in the small side compartments of his bike.
i clasp the helmet on my head and i hop on the motorcycle with him.
++
we stop in the school parking lot, "thanks for the ride." i tell him, shooting him a smile.
he nods his head, placing his helmet—which i returned— back onto his bike.
"just because we hooked up doesn't mean we're dating," he says loudly, catching the eye and stares of gossipers, they laughed.
"and just because your doe on my bike doesn't me we are 'official'," he finishes, my mouth agape.
as he walks away, his eye drops in a wink and he puts his hand up as a wave to me.
my fists clench, fucking douche.
______
i know this is probably the worst imagine you've ever read but im not on the top of the game today, my apologies.
