It’s your senior year and school just ended for the day.

You start the walk home eventually reaching the crosswalk, and press the button waiting for the light to change so you can safely cross. The rumble of a motorcycle approaches to your left.

You don’t have to see under his black helmet to know who it is. He was the only one at school that rode a motorcycle. Chase.

He gives you a small nod and wave, also recognizing you from around school. He had the reputation of the bad boy.