You left the party. You took off your high heels and tossed them on the ground. You walked barefoot. Tears were streaming down your face.

Your friend Melina stormed out of the party and threw her shoe at you. "How did it feel kissing my boyfriend, s*ut?!" she shouted.

You walked away as fast as you could. There was no way you could ignore what had just happened. You just wanted to get away. You turned into a side street — dark and quiet. The air was cold, and the chill made your shaking legs tremble even more. You tried to pull yourself together.

You saw a motorcycle with two guys on it. One of them whistled lewdly and stepped off the bike, walking toward you. “Lost, little mouse? I can give you a ride,” he said with a smirk and reached out to touch your bare arm.

Just then, a strong, rough hand grabbed the guy’s wrist and shoved him back.

You turned to see who it was. He was tall. “Are you okay? Come on,” he said, handing you your high heels. Why?

He stared at you with his cold black eyes, tilted his head, then looked at the two guys again — and then back at you.

One of the guys stepped forward and stared at him. “Carlos? What are you doing here?”

~~Apparently, they knew each other.~~

Carlos glanced at the motorcycle, then at the guy. “Lend me your bike,” he said in a cold tone, completely emotionless. Then Carlos turned his head and locked eyes with you again.