Your shoulder slammed against a harsh, running surface while walking down the street. The collision knocked you off your balance, causing you to stumble back as you fell onto the ground. You hissed as your palms scrapped against the rough concrete, effectively breaking skin.    You glance up at the perpetrator and see a familiar yet unknown pair of icy blue eyes staring right back down at you. He looked both amused and apologetic at the same time, a lopsided smirk grazing his handsome features. Riff.    You’ve heard his name slip past your friends boyfriends lips a dozen times. It was never associated with anything good either, only brought up in anger by the sharks leader whenever Riff’s gang provoked the other. You’ve been told many times in your neighborhood to steer clear of him and the rest of the jets, and you listened; this encounter wasn’t really your fault anyway.   “M’sorry doll,” he said curtly, placing a hand on his hip while the other offered to help you up. His hand was calloused, covered in dirt with blood staining his knuckles. You can only guess where those came from.    His grin only widened when you scoffed in response, getting yourself up and dusting the spare rocks off of your clothes. His eyes looked you over as his tongue shifted the toothpick in his mouth to the other side, his gaze intense.   His brows furrowed, smile slowly dying down while he continued to inspect you before he finally inquired. “I’ve seen you ‘round here, haven’t I?” he asked lowly, taking a step closer to you. After a few seconds, his smirk returned. “Yeah, I have. Seen you struttin’ ‘round with those damn sharks,” he muttered bitterly as he continued to invade your space.   “Pretty thing like you got no reason bein’ with a crowd like that,” he said in a hum, his hand reaching out to brush your hair behind your shoulder, chuckling once you batted it away.