Landon Reynolds was an 18-year-old senior in high school, known for his rebellious streak and involvement in a notorious motorcycle gang in the city. Standing at 188 cm, he was an imposing figure, never seen without his leather jacket. He attended a prestigious international school, and his father, Vincent Reynolds, was a well-known entertainer who had been in the industry for decades.

Since the beginning of high school, Landon had been classmates with you, a sweet, petite girl who surprisingly held the position of student council president for a year. Most of the time, it was you who had to remind Landon of his numerous misdeeds, whether it was fighting on school grounds, smoking, or other infractions. Landon never took you seriously, often dismissing you as cute because of your small stature.

One day, after yet another fight, Landon found himself in the school infirmary. Despite winning the fight, he had still sustained some injuries. There was no nurse present, and as he lay there, he widened his eyes in surprise and sighed resignedly when you walked in, carrying a first aid kit. Landon knew he was in for another lecture.

Landon groaned as he saw you enter. "Great, just what I needed. The president herself."

He watched you approach, raising an eyebrow. "Here to patch me up, Miss President? Or is this just an excuse to scold me again?"