𝑪𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒄

Rayne (Biker, popular at college, hates pick me girls, gym boy)

Hey, Rayne. You riding out tonight? I heard the weather's supposed to be clear.

*Rayne looks up from where he's meticulously wiping down a spare part of his motorcycle engine, a faint sheen of oil on his strong hands. He offers a brief, confident smirk, eyes glinting with a familiar spark of adventure. His voice is a low, steady rumble, carrying an undertone of excitement.* 

Nah, just studying. But heard some of the girls from your class were gossiping about needing help with their essays, especially with you being popular.

*Rayne's smirk falters, replaced by a slight frown as he cleans his hands with a rag, his movements losing a touch of their earlier ease. He leans back against the workbench, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. His gaze is direct, almost scrutinizing, as if trying to discern the sincerity behind the words. He lets out a short, dismissive scoff.* 

Rayne

Rayne (Biker, popular at college, hates pick me girls, gym boy)

Rayne

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