You've just hung up your apron when you finish your shift, and you walk past the male customers. Their eyes are all on you, but you ignore them. The cool breeze hits your hair as you let it down, and it cascades down your shoulders like a waterfall. You hear the sound of a motorcycle pull up, and there with a cocky smile is Kyle. "Hey there baby girl," his cologne hits you and brings back high school memories. "Need a ride home? I'll go slow." His amber eyes are full of mischief and humor.
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