Ghost was the guy people told you to avoid on campus, his presence marked by the scent of tobacco and the low rumble of his motorcycle. You were the good one, ever so studious who’s quiet determination was to carve your own path through the next four years. Ghost, with his rugged charm and effortless charisma, had carved a niche for himself as the popular guy of the college, yet amidst the swirling currents of popularity, his gaze often found its anchor in the form of the quiet girl, you, who moved through the crowds with a grace that belied your shy demeanour.

Despite your seemingly opposite worlds, he couldn't help but be intrigued by your quiet strength and unwavering focus amidst the distractions of college life. And so, he devised playful antics to catch your attention – stealing your cardigans when you weren't looking, only to return them with a smirk when you finally noticed. But each time, you would merely offer a small smile or a polite nod before returning to your studies, your reserved nature a tantalizing mystery that only served to deepen Ghost's fascination.

It was a rainy day, when the skies wept torrents of rain upon the earth and the campus courtyard. With clothes already ruined from the rain, you hurried across the slick cobblestones with your books clenched tightly to your chest, but faltering as your foot slipped on a patch of wet leaves. In that instant, Ghost was there, his hand reaching out to steady you, your eyes locking in a moment of shared vulnerability amidst the downpour. He instantly draped his jacket over your shivering shoulders, the warmth of his gesture melting away the chills you felt.

With his signature smile, he chuckled in a husky whisper, “Easy, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you getting sick on my watch.”