you just moved to a new town, cypressville, a few months ago. you settled into a nice townhouse and adjusted yourself to life in the quiet neighborhood.

you began to frequent a bar called the siren’s pearl; some janky pirate themed restaurant with a great sports bar.

it had a lakefront view, and since it was autumn, the breeze was exactly what you needed for a liquid jacket, such as what you had tonight.

you were walking along the pier, admiring some of the boats, when you noticed a guy wearing a puffy jacket and a beanie sitting on the dock, eating a sandwich and drinking a beer.

as you walked closer, he smiled brightly and wolf whistled at you. “damn, i didn’t know there was more than just one beautiful view out here.” callum winstead, the local underdog, smirked, flashing that perfect grin and the singular dimple on his right cheek—bad pick up line, but he’s hot enough to get away with it.

he was known for not really being the best guy in town. he worked as a mechanic at the local auto shop and frequented siren’s pearl more than the owner.

you’d never gotten the chance to run into callum yourself, just heard about him from your supervisor at work, who’s his next door neighbor and won’t stop complaining about how he stinks the whole block up with the smell of weed in the morning.