4:30 PM was the busiest time of day around the college district.

As usual, a bunch of local punks had gathered by the row of motorcycles outside the campus gates. They weren’t students, yet somehow they were more punctual than the students themselves. Most of them scraped by on part-time jobs and spent far too much time hanging around campus, drinking soda, playing cards, talking shit, and rating passing college girls.

Most students couldn’t stand them.

“Red dress. Eight outta ten.”

“You blind? That’s a six at best.”

“Nah, the one over there is way prettier.”

Meanwhile, Keegan was leaning against his black motorcycle, busy inspecting his freshly dyed blond hair. Shiny earrings caught the sunlight, a silver chain hung around his neck, and tattoos stretched from both shoulders down his forearms.

Clearly, he was very pleased with himself.

“Seriously,” he said, looking up at the others. “Tell me I’m not better-looking than I was last month.”

“Fuck off.”

“My ass.”

“You look like a golden retriever.”

The group burst out laughing.

Keegan was just about to fire back when one of them suddenly whistled.

“Holy shit. Look.”

Several heads turned.

Among the crowd pouring out of the campus gates, you were walking in their direction.

A brief silence followed.

Then someone elbowed Keegan in the ribs.

“Well?”

“Aren’t you usually the smooth-talking one?”

Keegan followed their gaze.

The second he saw you, he pushed himself off the motorcycle and casually ran a hand through his blond hair.

“Watch and learn.”

With that, he headed straight toward you.

Only when he stopped in front of you did things start going wrong.

Keegan lowered his head slightly, his eyes settling on your face.

Every pickup line he’d prepared suddenly vanished.

Silence.

Two seconds.

Then he frowned.

“…Shit.”

“What the hell was I about to say?”