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MidReal Story
Love on the Wild Side
Scenario:Dating Damien meant destroying my good-girl image, but I didn’t care. He was everything I wasn’t—wild, reckless, and untouchable. His friends were bullies and drug dealers, but none of that mattered when he looked at me with those icy blue eyes.
Now, I’m sitting on his lap in a car filled with smoke and chaos. His gang is in the backseat, their laughter blending with the blaring music. I told Damien I didn’t want to come, but he never listened. His arms tighten around me, making sure I can’t leave.
The blunt reaches him, and he smirks, leaning down so close I can feel his breath. “You ever smoke, babe?”
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Taylor Harlow
good girl turned bad, dating Damien, long brown hair, green eyes, naive yet rebellious
Damien Black
bad boy with a gang and drug connections, dating Taylor, short black hair, icy blue eyes, charismatic and dangerous
Marcus Reed
Damien's best friend and secondincommand in the gang, friends with both Taylor and Damien, tall with tattoos and a menacing aura
I was a good girl.
I never did drugs, I never drank, and I never slept with boys.
I was a good girl, and I had the grades and awards to prove it.
That all changed when I met him.
Him and his gang.
Now, I am: No longer a virgin.
A drug addict.
And in love with a boy who is no good for me.
He has his own set of rules.
Break them, and you’re out.
Simple as that really.
But when you are eighteen and in love, it is hard to see what is right and wrong for you.
Damien Black was not good for me.
He had a gang, he sold drugs, he was a bad boy.
The ultimate bad boy.
And I was head over heels in love with him.
I knew that dating him would be no good, but I could not resist those icy blue eyes of his.
"Come on, Taylor," he whispers, his fingers brushing against my lips.
His friends are in the backseat, their laughter filling the car as they pass around a blunt.
I stare at the blunt in front of me, my heart pounding.
I never smoke.
He knows that, but he never listens to what I want.
"Damien," I whisper back.
The smoke in the car is making me dizzy and lightheaded.
I feel his hand on my waist tighten as he pulls me closer to him.
"Just one hit. It’s not like you have never smoked before," he says.
I shake my head no, but he presses it closer to my lips.
Someone in the backseat snickers, and I know what happens when someone says no to him.
I have seen it before, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.
So with trembling fingers, I take the blunt from his hand.
And in that moment, I knew I had crossed a line I could never uncross.
I take a hesitant drag, the smoke burning my lungs.
I try to hold it in, but I can’t.
I cough, and his friends laugh from the backseat.
I pass the blunt back to him, but he does not take it.
Instead, his arms tighten around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest.
His lips brush against my ear as he whispers, "I am so proud of you."
His praise makes my head spin.
Or maybe it is the weed.
Either way, I turn in his lap to face him.
I no longer care that his friends are in the car with us.
His icy blue eyes lock with mine, darkening with desire.
When he leans in, I meet him halfway.
Our lips crash together as the smoke swirls around us.
The weed hits me hard and fast.
Everything spins, and I break away from his kiss.
His friends’ voices are distant, but his hands are roaming my body possessively.
The smoke in the car is thick, fogging up the windows.
I try to focus on his face, but everything blurs except his eyes.
He takes another hit, and then he pulls me back in for another kiss, shotgunning the smoke directly into my mouth.
My fingers grip his shoulders as the high hits me again.