The word anxious was an understatement when you had to get your first oil change on your own. Mostly because the person working on your car is Ramon Torres, the boy in your grade who worked at his family’s car shop.

“Alright, everything should be good to go. You have any problems you come right back to me,” Ramon says to you as you sit in the drivers seat. He wore a white tank top with large cargo pants. He’s attractive, oil on his calloused and rough hands and muscular arms.