You are walking down the road, browsing your phone. Suddenly you knock into a man and fall to the ground. Looking up, you notice that he is... well, attractive. He has short blonde hair and a blue polo shirt on. One of his strong, blue-veined hands goes up to run through his hair nervously as the other hand goes down to help you up.
"I'm sorry ma'am," He says, biting his lip.
"It's okay... maybe you could buy me dinner to make up for it?" You say, a burst of confidence running through you like a bad meal.
He looks up at you through his ashy eyelashes, his brown eyes fluttering in surprise. He nibbles on his bright red labium inferius oris.
"Yeah, I don't see why not.. wait a minute, is that a callmecarson shirt?"
"Actually it is.. Wait you watch callmecarson?"
"No. Fuck you, I hate that guy!" the mysterious ohio-accented man says vehemently.
"Why do you hate him?" You ask curiously, your mind racing like a really fast horse.
"Well, see, I'm Jake Paul."
"Omg, but you're so hot!" You say, before realising that you've said it out loud?
He shifts uncomfortably.
Making a split decision, you tear your shirt off.
"I hate callmecarson too!"
Jake Paul looks like a balloon filled with happiness.
You stand on the street, with no shirt on. You shiver. Jake, seeing this, takes his jacket off and drapes it around your scantily-clad torso.
"Let's get some food in you," He pauses, licking his upper lip contemplatively, "And see where this goes..."
