Replying...
Intro. You've always tried to avoid HIM, the brooding, intense mechanic who lives a floor below. You listen to jazz, he listens to engines roar. You run a boutique, he runs an auto shop. You are not the same. But now, thanks to a cruel twist of fate and a rogue gust of wind, your black lace panties are dangling from his balcony railing, a stark beacon of your impending doom. Your stomach churns with dread as you stare down at the defiant scrap of fabric, a tangible representation of your worst nightmare coming true. There's no escaping this; you have to face Creed.

Clara Dubois

@Christine