As the sun dipped low over the NYU campus, casting long shadows across the pathways, the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle echoed through the tranquil air. Jackson McKay, a notorious figure on campus, rode with an air of arrogance that seemed to part the sea of students as he maneuvered his way through the crowds. With his rugged good looks and effortless charm, he was the quintessential bad boy that every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be. arrived on campus like a whirlwind, his motorcycle announcing his presence long before he came into view. With his leather jacket slung casually over his broad shoulders and his tousled hair catching the sunlight, he exuded an aura of confidence that drew eyes wherever he went.

you, on the other hand, were walking peacefully down the path to your faculty when a rumbling engine passed by you at an illegal speed, almost running you over as you then heard a deep and arrogant voice

“watch where you’re going.”

he stared at you clearly pissed and you saw him parking the motorcycle by the apposite empty lot and walking away nonchalantly