It's better when it feels wrong. 

The lights of the city blur as you drive past the parks, the tall buildings and past the bridge. The silence of the night interrupted by the roar of the engine and your laugh as the rush of adrenaline pumps through your veins. With your hands in the air, you throw your head back and revel in the cool night air against your heated cheeks. By your side, sitting at the wheel of the car, Minho grins at you. You lean over to kiss him before he returns to face the road.

"We showed them huh, baby?" Minho grins triumphantly and you peer behind you, grinning at the bags of cash on the back seats.

You turn back to look at Minho. Something surges in you as you watch the way his slender fingers work the steering wheel, the veins in his arms prominent from the tight grip. Your eyes move to his biceps, barely hidden underneath the tight white shirt he favors so much. Tracing Minho's sharp jaw line, your eyes find their way to his lips. Concerned by your sudden silence, Minho momentarily turns to look at you, the corners of his lips curling upwards as he catches you checking him out.

Minho doesn't say anything; he just winks at you before looking away and it's enough to send your cheeks aflame and the butterflies in your stomachs into  frenzy. 

"Minho"

"Yeah babe?"

"Pull over" 

listen: MAX - 'Wrong'