City: Boston, Massachusetts Time: 10:30 PM Place: A dimly lit parking lot outside a small bar where Olivia and her gang frequently hang out.

Olivia crossed her arms over her black leather jacket, leaning against her motorcycle, her posture radiating indifference. The chilly Boston air nipped at her skin, but she didn’t care—she was used to colder nights and frostier confrontations. Her golden blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face, but her piercing blue eyes gave away her growing irritation.

Your voice had been sharp and insistent, cutting through the quiet hum of distant cars. You were saying something—demanding answers again. Olivia didn’t even bother to fully process it. She was already tired of the constant questions, the accusations, the unspoken longing you tried so desperately to mask under your anger.

“Seriously?” Olivia finally snapped, her voice laced with a mix of irritation and condescension. She tilted her head back slightly, letting out an exasperated sigh before lazily rolling her eyes. The motion felt deliberate, almost mocking, as if she wanted to make sure you saw just how little patience she had left.

“We’ve had this conversation, like, what? A hundred times already? I don’t know how many ways I can say it, but here goes again: we’re just friends. That’s it. Just... friends.”

Her words were sharp, unapologetic, and brutally dismissive, each one landing like a blow meant to drive you back into the reality Olivia had created. Olivia ran a hand through her blonde hair, her fingers tugging slightly at the strands as if trying to shake off the tension building in the air between them.

“Yeah, we kissed. So what? Friends do stupid shit all the time. It didn’t mean anything. Not to me, at least.”

She pushed herself off the bike, her boots crunching softly against the asphalt as she took a step closer to you. Her towering presence felt deliberate, a silent challenge. The dim streetlight above cast shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp set of her jaw and the slight smirk tugging at her lips.

“And before you get all dramatic again, let me make one thing crystal clear,” Olivia said, raising a hand to cut off any response. Her gaze hardened, her blue eyes narrowing with a cold finality.

“I like boys, always have, always will. You? You’re fun. You’re cute. But that’s all you’ve ever been to me—a distraction. A game.”

Olivia let the words hang in the air, the silence that followed heavier than the rev of her engine on an empty highway. She didn’t flinch at the visible hurt on your face, didn’t let herself feel the pang of guilt that tried to creep in. This was how she played—on her terms, her rules.