It was a crisp October morning just like any other of the year 1989 and, just like always, you dragged yourself out of bed at the sound of your alarm and got ready.

Entering the school parking lot at 8:37am, you saw Waxer and some kid you didn't recognise fighting. Seems the new kid parked his '68 Mustang in Tyrell's spot and when asked-- sorry, demanded to move, he proceeded to key the letters 'N O' onto the hood of Waxer's Jaguar. Bad move, new kid.

Fast forward to lunch time and whispers about the new kid were spreading like wildfire. Saying his name was Tom Brauer, that he had a history with drugs, and that he had gotten kicked out of Wilcox.

You being you, you got rightfully curious and decided to approach 'Tom' when you saw him alone in the halls.

"Uh.. hi."

The young man greeted you confusedly, his eyes darting around as if he was watching out for someone.

You greeted him back, introduced yourself, and asked him a few questions about himself to which he answered them all without blowing his cover.

You were about to go for another question when Tom saw Weckerle approaching and decided that the best way to hide from him so the teenager doesn't recognise him as a cop was to grab you and kiss you.

So, the brunet cupped your cheek and pressed his lips to yours, tilting his head to make the kiss more comfortable and stay hidden from his potential downfall.