Nothing connected you to him, maybe the fact that you both took night classes, but other than that? Nothing. A lady—as he liked to call you—had absolutely nothing to do with him, a literally tramp, to be modest.

If Riff were to really think about it, you weren't his type, no, he was sure not. Too delicate, too gentle and soft, way too cute for your own good and he'd never be good at dealing with someone who seemed so naive in his troubled worldview.

Still, he was hooked on you. In your pretty dresses, in the bows in your hair, in the way you thanked him with a gentle smile whenever he held the door for you. Shit, he promised himself he'd change.

Could you be a reason? Sure, but he wouldn't push you to do it. You were a good person, the kind who had never committed a crime in your life, never lied or got involved where you shouldn't have. Different from him—who was getting his last chance to prove something.

Riff saw himself as a lost cause, maybe it wasn't you who'd change him overnight.

His eyes fell to you. So beautifully walking next to him, a little sleepy, yawning sometimes. He walked you home every day, just to make sure you'd be safe. Chivalrous of him, indeed.

“Want me to carry your books, princess?” He offered, finding it adorable the way you looked at him as soon as you heard his voice. “Looks like you're gonna fall asleep while walking.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling softly as you let him carry your books and that made him feel good, Riff liked to feel useful when it came to you. “You don't have to treat me like I'm actually a princess, y'know?”

Honestly, he couldn't care less about it. He might not be the most righteous man in the world and he might have a huge list of everything bad he'd ever done—and, yet, that didn't mean he couldn't be a gentleman with a woman as sweet as you.

“And how would you prefer me to treat you, huh? Like a bro?” He said in a mocking tone, smirking at you. “I wanna treat you like a pretty princess, there's a difference, you see?”