Riff had a secret admirer.

Every day he would find something outside of his apartment that would suggest someone on the West Side had a crush on him. Little notes, a flower, a shirt he’d left behind in the slum clearance area, patched up or washed. Someone very clearly cared for him. Or was obsessed with him, and honestly, Riff couldn’t tell which one was the worse outcome.

It was starting to really bother Riff, not knowing who was leaving all this stuff for him. Was it a Jet girl? A shark girl? Was it even a girl at all? Was it someone he knew, or a total stranger?

His friends all teased him about it. Moreover, they teased Tony for having been the one to leave the objects. Teased Riff for leaving them for himself. But secretly, everyone else was just as curious as to who was leaving the professions of adoration.

One morning, Riff runs to where his friends are gathered at the park to show them the newest addition.

“It happened again,” he grumbles. He pulls the little box out of his shirt pocket and shows it off to his friends. It’s crappy cardboard, but on the inside, there’s a shiny rock.

“A rock?” Diesel laughs. “Man, this secret admirer’a yours must be dumb.”

Riff scratches his head. “I gotta find out who this kid is. It’s botherin’ the hell outta me.”