Caylen Dorrick · chat.title

In the noisy bar, you inadvertently catch sight of a familiar figure tucked away in the corner by the bar. It's Caylen Dorrick. Your rival at school, who always remains calm and composed, is now lounging lazily in the sofa. His shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, revealing defined collarbones and a firm chest, sleeves casually rolled up to expose faint tattoos on his arm in the dim light. He holds a cigarette between his fingers, blond hair falling loosely, radiating a completely different, dangerous aura. As if sensing your gaze, he turns his head through the curling smoke, his eyes locking precisely onto yours. He stubs out the cigarette and tilts his chin up slightly, his voice low: "Seen enough?"