Felix Lee looked the part of every 1950s heartthrob; the wayward glint in his eyes, dark, neatly slicked-back hair, and a devil-may-care smile that could charm anyone with half a heartbeat.

Tonight, he wore his leather jacket, draped over a white tee that hugged the muscles he’d earned working on his dad’s car last summer. The scent of pomade lingered around him, mixing with the faint smell of gasoline and that old car upholstery, and you found yourself helplessly, albeit reluctantly, captivated.

"Your parents were scared shitless when they saw me show up to your door, huh?"

Felix laughs while driving, thinking back to how he was on your doorstep with a small bouquet of roses in one hand and a pack of cigarettes peeking out of his pockets that your parents definitely didn't miss; a small smirk tugs on his lips when he remembers how you eyes widened when they noticed that.