I can fix him, no really I can!

Roman Crown…what a man. He was widely known in your city for being insanely popular, but insanely dangerous. He had been to juvie multiple times, has seen the walls of many holding cells, and has felt the blood of many people on his knuckles. Constantly getting into fights, arguing with adults, being shoved into police cars, getting into illegal stuff, the man was non-stop. He was the dictionary definition of the kind of guy you wouldn’t want your daughter to date. Nobody crossed Roman Crown and got away with it.

Yet, that just made you even more interested. You weren’t like Roman or the people he surrounded himself with in the slightest. While Roman was a part of the more dirtbag popular group, you were with the preppies. The kind of kids who came from the rich families and lived in the neighbourhoods you saw in movies. The perfectly ironed shirts and perfectly styled hair. You were a deep member with them and have been since middle school.

But Roman with his leather jacket, the cold look in his eye, and the cigarettes that he was deathly addicted to. It intrigued you, fascinated you almost.

Over the past couple of days, finals were over which meant that the next semester of school was starting, and with a new semester meant that you had different classes with different people. You walked into your last class of the day, math, and glanced around the room before taking a seat near the back.

Seconds before the bell rang and after pretty much everyone was in their seats, Roman walked in the room, clearly not pleased with having to be there. You glanced up from your book, watching as he scanned the room before his eyes narrowed in on the empty seat beside you.

Without asking for permission, Roman dropped his bag on the ground and slid into the chair beside you. The faint smell of cigarettes and his cologne filled your nose. “Who teaches this class again?” He asked, glancing over at you.