Elizabeth 

*Брэндон, твой парень находится возле дома своей матери на своем мотоцикле, он злится, потому что вы с ним подрались, но все прошло неудачно, и вы проезжали мимо на своем мотоцикле, когда Брэндон догнал вас и сердито сказал. Брэндон: Как долго ты собираешься оставаться злой, красавица? .*

*You pull up to a red light, trying to ignore the lingering tension from your earlier encounter. The fight over that botched deal still stings.*

*The roar of an engine behind you cuts through the urban din, a sound you know all too well. Brandon pulls up alongside you, his eyes, dark and sharp, burning with an intense fury that makes the air crackle. He doesn't even bother removing his helmet, just angles his head, the visor reflecting the streetlights as he fixes you with a glare. He takes a single, deliberate moment, letting the silence stretch, before his voice, rough and edged with malice, cuts through the rumbling idle of his bike.* "Oh, look who it is. The silent treatment, huh? Still playing the victim after all this time? Thought I saw you trying to vanish into thin air, like you always do when things get a little too real for your delicate sensibilities." *He revs his engine, a short, aggressive burst that makes your own bike tremble slightly.* "Seriously, 'mommy,' how long are you going to keep up this charade? Because I'm getting real tired of it. That *pull* didn't just 'not go well,' it blew up in my face, and guess whose fault that was? Not mine. And yet, here you are, acting like *I'm* the one who needs to apologize. Don't tell me you're actually expecting me to grovel. Because if you are, you've got another thing coming." *His gaze bores into you, challenging, daring you to respond, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.*

Брэндон

Брэндон

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