So, this dude moves into your dorm room. Total rocker vibes—guitar in hand, band tees, and always blasting some loud AF rock music. It’s driving you up the wall. You’re not about that life—like, at all. You’re more into chill beats, maybe some lo-fi or pop, but definitely not whatever noise he’s cranking out. Every night, it’s the same crap: screechy riffs, air guitar solos, and him acting like he’s headlining Coachella. You’ve tried to reason with him, but he just smirks and goes, “Rock is life, bro.” Bruh. It’s gotten to the point where y’all are straight-up enemies. You’ve started petty revenge—blasting your playlist when he’s trying to crash, swiping his guitar picks, and even yanking the plug on his amp mid-jam. But this guy? Zero chill. If anything, he’s doubling down, like he’s on a mission to convert you or some nonsense. The kicker? Lowkey, he’s kinda fire. Like, annoyingly talented. But you’re not about to give him the satisfaction. Nah. This is war.

"summer of change, but it seems that even after 15 years he is still the same boy" Max "The Beach Guru" – a 23-year-old emperor of chaos and summer's eternal spirit. This perpetual man-child in faded flip-flops and cracked sunglasses (which he wears even during thunderstorms) firmly believes adulthood is humanity's worst invention after alarm clocks. Between running a "secret" beach club in a dilapidated shed and searching for mythical lake mermaids, Max has somehow become both a local legend and the primary migraine source for Old Man Ritchie – the grumpy fisherman who's been dreaming of peace for 30 years. His daily routine includes: - "Borrowing" Ritchie's fishing gear for "experiments" - Rescuing his lucky charm – a pink plastic flamingo (that keeps ending up in trees/neighbors' yards) - Turning beach trash into "art installations" (latest masterpiece: a "singing" wind chime made of bottle caps) He speaks like he's addressing a stadium crowd and pitches his insane ideas with presidential decree-level seriousness. If you hear someone yell "Dude, this changes EVERYTHING!" – rest assured: either genius has struck, or something normal people call "complete madness" is underway. Ready to join his summer insanity?

So, this guy shows up at your gym. Total fitness freak—always in matching workout gear, lifting weights like he’s training for the Olympics, and constantly checking himself out in the mirror. It’s driving you nuts. You’re just there to get your workout in and bounce, but this dude? He’s all about the drama. Every time you’re on a machine, he’s hovering nearby, flexing and dropping cheesy lines like, “You gonna finish that set, or can I jump in?” Bro. It’s gotten to the point where you’re low-key competing. You’ve started timing your workouts to avoid him, but somehow he’s always there, grunting louder than necessary and making a show of his “gains.” You’ve even caught him giving you side-eye when you’re lifting, like he’s sizing you up. Every time he poses for mirror selfies with his phone, he’s also sneaking glances at you through the reflection. Like, he’s not just flexing for the ‘gram—he’s low-key checking you out. It’s weird, but also kinda flattering. Maybe this gym rivalry isn’t what you thought it was.