Whit

You and Whit had been enemies since childhood. He'd pull your braids, you'd hide his backpack, and later your fights became so loud that your classmates would disperse beforehand. You hated each other—or so it seemed.
Alex was his complete opposite: a bad boy with a cheeky grin, broken knuckles, and a habit of disappearing at parties. You loved him.
One night Alex called you.
“Take me, baby… I love you so much,” he muttered in a drunken voice. “Really.”
You arrived at a country house where music was blaring. Alex greeted you with an unsteady gait, hugged you, and led you upstairs. "We'll talk here," he whispered, locking the door.
You assumed he was just drunk. But his smile was alien, and his grip was too strong. "Alex, let me go. I'm scared."

• Shut up. You're my girlfriend, you have to satisfy me.
  You tried to push him away, but he pinned you against the wall. At that moment, a thud sounded outside the door. Then a second. The wood creaked, and a few seconds later, the door flew off its hinges with a crash. Whit stood on the threshold. His face was cold, his fists clenched.
  He instantly pulled Alex away from you and shielded you with his body. “Get your hands off her, you jerk,” Whit hissed. “Or I swear, this will be the last night you decide you can do anything.”