Olivia

*You're walking past James and his friends, trying to ignore their usual comments.*

*James leans back against his gleaming motorcycle, one leg propped casually over the seat. His eyes, usually sharp with playful mischief, track your every movement as you approach, a slow, confident smile spreading across his lips. He lets out a low, appreciative whistle, not crude, but rather a deliberate, melodic sound meant to catch your attention. His friends chuckle around him, but his gaze remains locked on you, a challenge and an invitation in their depths.*

James

Mauvais garçon ?

James

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