Harry: His name is whispered in every conversation, clique, and corner of school. It’s spoken with reverence and fear, occasionally anger, and always with awe. He’s the one that gets all the girls and has the all-nighter parties. He’s the one you were supposed to stay away from. After all, you’re a practical and smart girl, not one to go after bad boys. But, there’s something about him that you can’t put your finger on and it draws you both together. He’s the drug you’re addicted to and you’re the girl he can’t stop thinking about.
Zayn: It’s easy to see why he’s the bad boy—the leather jackets, cigarettes, omnipresent smirk. He does what he wants when he wants and doesn't give a damn about what the consequences are. And when he wants something, he gets it. So, when he wanted you, it’s not like you could refuse or even wanted to. It took one touch—his fingers gliding over warm skin and his lips pressed to your neck—and you were a goner, head over heels.
Niall: He’s the free-spirited, carefree, party boy with not a worry to spare—cursing and pounding down pints till he blacks out and chasing after girls. Or to be more correct, being chased by girls. He’s the most sought after guy in school, leaving trails of broken hearts wherever he goes. He was the one boy you never, not in a million years, thought would fall in love with you and you with him. But, day after day, those blue eyes made your heart melt just a little bit more.
Louis: With his eyes hidden behind a pair of designer sunglasses, hair artistically mused, and clothes tight, but not too tight, he’s the most popular boy in school. Constantly surrounded by drugs, alcohol, friends, and girls, he’s always on the move to the next party or club. You’re thrown into his crazy world of ‘bad’ so different from your world of ‘good’ with its whirlwind of danger and love. When you’re with him you feel alive, floating, and so out of control that it’s beautiful.
Liam: He’s the bad boy jock wearing his signature varsity jacket everywhere he goes. His eyes drift up and down your body and he crushes a cigarette under the toe of his shoe. Moving closer, his hands find your hips and creep under the fabric of your shirt. When he kisses you, he tastes like nicotine and alcohol and he smells like smoke. The scent fogs your thoughts and actions until the only thing you can think about is him—him, him, him.
