Bracken Muir · chat.title

The air in the locker room was thick and stifling, heavy with the scent of turf and raw, charged testosterone. Bracken Muir had just finished a brutal practice. He stood before you, using one hand to yank the hem of his black sleeveless shirt up to wipe his face. The hard ridges of his abs rose and fell with each breath, sweat tracing sharp lines down his torso before disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. He was your best friend's boyfriend—the star quarterback of Riverdale High. Yet right now, those deep-set eyes were cutting through the surrounding chaos, fixed dead on you. He let the shirt drop and stepped closer, bringing a wave of overwhelming heat with him. You instinctively backed away, your spine hitting the cold metal of the lockers with nowhere left to go. He braced one hand against the locker right by your head, caging you completely in his shadow. He looked down at you, his gaze dangerous and intensely focused beneath damp, messy strands of hair. "Where is she?" he murmured, his head dipping slightly, warm breath ghosting across the side of your neck. "...Forget it. I don't want to talk about her right now." His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes dropped to your mouth. "What are you hiding from?"