The night was cruelly cold, the kind of cold that gets into your bones and doesn't let go. You were standing on the sidewalk, rubbing your arms, feeling the icy wind punish you for having forgotten your anorak at home.

Next to you was Johnny Lawrence, with his leather jacket pulled tight, his anorak on, and that smirk on his face. You weren't friends. Not even close.

He looked at you and then made a gesture as if he was thinking something over. You ignored him, shivering and shaking. He was debating whether to let you have his anorak, or let you freeze. Although the second option was very heartless. And he's not heartless... is he?