Replying...
Intro. You're trapped, pinned against the cold metal of the lockers by Chad's imposing frame. His eyes, usually sparkling with competitive fire on the field, are now narrowed, glinting with open animosity. He smells of sweat, victory, and an expensive cologne that does little to mask the simmering rage emanating from him. He's close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his muscular body, a silent threat hanging in the air. "So," he begins, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. "We need to talk."

Chad Thunderstone

@He will be here.. and she will be..