When they arrived at the dealership, Oz was like a kid in a candy store, only the kid was an adrenaline junky, and the candies were very shiny, expensive high speed death machines.

At first, Oscar had told himself that he'd stick close to tradition—something that would still have the same spirit as what he had before. Yeah, that was before the dealer showed them their all new Ducati in cherry red. That had ended the shopping real quick. But before Max handed over the key to his eager little punk, he had one rule.

"Seriously? A Helmet? What am I, eleven?"

"That's the rule. No helmet—no bike."

"But I used to ride around all the time without one!"

"Yeah, on a piece of shit, not a fucking crotch rocket that can hit two hundred miles an hour!"

"It can hit two hundred?"

"Helmet!"

"Fiiiine!"

Max relinquished the key then, unable to keep from grinning as he watched Oscar test his weight on his new bike. If the old bobber had character, Oscar's new bike had straight up sex appeal. It looked dangerous with its sleek, meant-for-speed design and bright red body. It was gorgeous. And Oscar looked hot as fuck astride it.

"Meet me back at the house?" Max said as he headed towards his car. "Your suit for tomorrow night came, by the way."

Oscar nodded before putting on the helmet, which felt awkward and heavy at first, but he was pretty sold on it once he'd connected the Bluetooth, and could listen to his music without the sounds of traffic cutting in constantly. By the time he'd made it back to the manor, it had grown on him as much as the bike had.

The day of the party was certainly something, it started at first light, when the catering service arrived and that meant the kitchen was officially off limits. Mrs. Gallagher spent all morning touring the house with her event planner, who had her people dragging in all sorts of tables, lights and decorations. For the better part of the day, Oscar's job along with pretty much everyone else, was to stay out of the way.

By sundown, the entire house and backyard had been transformed much like Oscar, who had to do a double take in the bathroom mirror. The suit fit him well, so did the watch and every other little detail that Max and Elise had helped him with. He stepped out of his room and headed for the stairs with an odd feeling that he wasn't just the pet punk anymore. He belonged here.

Max was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and absolutely took advantage of the opportunity to watch Oscar's descent like the love interest in a Hallmark romance movie. He couldn't help himself. He absolutely loved Oz's tough, grungy look, but goddamn if he didn't polish up fine as hell. He could easily give any one of Max's friends or acquaintances a run for their money.

"Just in case I hadn't mentioned already," Max began once Oscar was beside him, "This party is for our buddy Davenport... Basically, it's a fundraiser for wealthy people to get together, drink expensive liquor, and donate money to another rich person as a token of their political investment in said rich person. It's stupid, but a lotta high society snobs will be here."

"Rich snobs, giving money to other rich snobs—got it," Oscar reiterated between staring at Max and also trying to look like he wasn't just staring at Max. "Just do me a favor, and don't take that off without me later," he said, eyeing Max's sharp suit.

"Promise me you'll resist the urge to take off with someone's car this evening, and we'll have a deal," Max replied with a grin just before something at the top of the staircase caught his attention. "There are my beautiful sisters," he said rather loudly, causing both women to smile, and Angela to roll her eyes.

After Oscar let out a piercing whistle that seemed more appropriate for a strip club than a fancy dinner party, he promised that he would be on his best behavior from that point on. And for most of the evening, he kept his word.

He stuck with Max and his sister, and when the girls peeled off an hour later to meet up with some other rich girls, Oscar remained with Max, and away from all the fancy cars filling the driveway.

But Oscar had dramatically underestimated how long the party was actually going to be, because it was half past eleven and new people were still arriving, including a particular rich asshole...

"Marcus!" Davenport chimed, a glass of champagne already in hand. "Sorry for being late!" He wasn't. "Traffic was dreadful!" It wasn't. And who even used the word 'dreadful' in real life?

Max grinned. "Late to your own party. I'd expect nothing less of the government." He raised his own glass slightly, clinking it with Davenport's, but he wasn't done giving the young politician a hard time yet. "Seems you draw quite the turn out whether you're here or not."

"Hey." Oscar's attention was pulled away from the conversation between Max and Carter by someone he didn't recognize. "You're Bradley, right? Jake Winstead." Jake was your stereotypical hot guy... Nice suit, slicked back hair that may or may not be naturally dirty blonde, a ridiculous jawline, and, just like most of the confused-looking underwear models on Google Images, had a mad case of duck-lips... "Stocks, right?" he asked, pointing a finger at Oscar. But when Oscar stared blankly at him, Jake quickly spoke again. "No? Ah, shit... I could've sworn your father was a big stock market guy... Huh. Well, if McCray mentions anything just say he is." Jake's little laugh sounded so fake that it was almost physically painful. "Anyway, is it true that Elise is your girl? 'Cause, I mean, good on you for taking that shot, you know. We were talking for a little while—a few years back, I mean...Anyway, I thought I'd ask, since I'd heard, but you two have practically been in different area codes tonight, you know?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I figured I'd keep the clingy boyfriend look on the down-low," Oscar replied, though now that he thought about it, that was exactly what he'd been doing with Max.

"Oh yeah, no, totally. Respect for that." Jake nodded a few times. "...I'd keep an eye out though, you know...If she were my girlfriend, at a party like this. I wouldn't do it, but you know...she's a hottie, and some guys will talk her up. Not me, you know, but like McCray or Fletcher...I dunno how well you know them. Hey, where'd you move to Kingsport from, anyway? LA?"

"Uh, yeah," Oscar replied, but he was barely paying attention at this point as he scanned the area for Elise. He was less worried about some guy chatting with her, than he was of it appearing as if he didn't care. At best, he'd look like he was just some player, using her for her money, and with Max's mother and father around he knew that wouldn't go over great. If he intended to keep living there, he needed them to not hate his guts.

"Hey, I'm just gonna go check on her, hit me up later," the punk said once he'd spotted Elise in the middle of a small group of people that was definitely not all girls.

"Hm? Oh. Yeah, sure. For sure, my man. Yeah."

Oscar wasn't really waiting for his approval, the punk had already started moving in that direction. He made one detour on the way, to grab a fresh glass, and then effortlessly slid in behind Elise and put one arm around her petite frame.

"Hey, what's up?" He wondered casually.

"Hey," Elise's eyes lit up as she greeted him, but his reception from the people crowded around her was mixed. The girls looked curious, and openly ogled him, while the guys... Well, they looked like they were trying to decide if they wanted to beat him or be him. "This is Oscar," Elise said, leaning into him, beaming.

"He's taaall, Ellie," Yameena giggled, nudging Elise with her elbow. "It's nice to finally meet you, since we've heard a lot about you. I'm Yameena, this is Julia."

Julia nodded. "Hi, Oscar."

The guy who'd been standing closest to Elise held out a hand. "Pierce McCray. Your family in the oil business?"

Oscar took the guy's hand, and after giving it a shake, wondered if maybe he shouldn't have as a sign of dominance.

"Stocks, actually, but my bike likes oil," the punk countered, almost like he knew what he was talking about. He didn't—but he had enough experience to know that people trusted confidence more than facts most of the time.

Both guys nearly nodded in unison.

"Name's Grant. What kind of bikes do you have?" Grant asked just before another guy joined them.

This guy, while dressed up, looked really out of place. His suit clearly wasn't the same quality of the ones Oscar and the other two guys were wearing, or even the one duck lips had had on, his glasses were thick, and looked pretty out of date, and his tie was definitely a clip on... and it was weird that all of that was so noticeable.

"Heeeey, quick picture of you all?" Cheap Suit asked, holding up a camera that looked like it cost more than everything else on him all together. 

"Sure," Oscar said and began to move out of the way so that he wouldn't be in the shot.

Panic flashed across Elise's face for a moment, but she recovered quickly, laughing and tugging Oscar back to her, while giving him a silent plea to catch on.

"Camera shy, Oscar?" Pierce asked with a sly look on his face.

The photographer waited until Oscar was back in the frame and flashed a couple pictures. "That's great, and could I get..." He motioned between Elise and Oscar.

Elise smiled up at him with a look that was both encouraging and somehow apologetic all at once while her friends either backed off or angled themselves just a little. Enough to seem like the couple wasn't alone, but that their faces wouldn't really be in frame.

The photographer snapped a few more before peaking out from behind the viewfinder again. "That's gorgeous. Could I get a hug or a kiss or something too?"  

Oscar's stomach jumped into his throat as he looked at Elise. His tongue ring clicked across his teeth, and all he could hear was Max warning him not to...and that meant there was only one thing he could possibly do.

The punk lifted her chin and brushed the few stray strands of hair back behind her ear. His eyes carefully read hers as he leaned in, until he felt their breathing hitch—lips connect—and his lids slid shut.

Her lips were soft, and tasted just slightly of sweet cherries—the kind that topped the whipped cream swirl on a milkshake. Her weight swayed into him, and she placed her palms against his chest to stabilize herself.

"Perfect!" the photographer chimed, all too quickly. "Thank you so much, Miss Gallagher, Mr..."

Elise slowly pulled back, breaking their kiss, eyes fluttering open. She was still staring up at Oscar when she replied, "Bradley."

"Mr. Bradley. Thank you!" The guy nodded, giving Oscar a small wave. "Thank you both. Beautiful couple," he added before taking his leave.

"Well, well, I might have to actually buy one of the gossip mags now," Julia teased.

"That'll be a nice set," Yasmeena agreed. It might have been his imagination, but it almost seemed like she was looking at Oscar just a little more critically now. "Anyway, I'm going to go mingle. Love you, Darlings."   

"Dangerous..." Oscar said—the word no more than a husky whisper.

That's what Elise had warned him about the first time they'd hung out alone together, and he certainly couldn't disagree with her. This felt very dangerous, but not in the way that he normally encountered danger...

Her cheeks flushed and she rolled her lips, giving him the slightest nod in reply before looking away.

He also had another feeling... The one that came from a glare so heavy it could cleave a mountain in half...

Weeeeeeelllll someone isn't happy~ Any guesses as to who? 👀👀👀

Shout out to romanticDarkness95 ! Thanks so much for your support!!