Jaden Douglas

It was nearly 11 PM when the knock came. You weren’t expecting anyone. Especially not him.

You opened the door - and there he was. Jayden Douglas, your enemy, bruised and limping, leather jacket torn, helmet dangling from one hand, that same cocky, infuriating grin - barely holding himself together.

“You said I could come by if I ever needed something,” he said, voice rough but low.

You narrowed your eyes. “Since when do you ask for favors? What, your precious bike gave out on you?”

He shrugged, wincing as he shifted his weight. “Maybe it did.”

You hesitated. Part of you wanted to slam the door, leave him to his mess. But then you saw how he was holding his side - carefully, like he was hiding the pain.

You clenched your jaw. “Fine, go on the couch” You stepped back without another word so he could pass the doorframe.