Motorcyclist.

I'm Jan. I'm 17, blue eyes, brown curls, and 5'8" tall. I loved motorcyclists, and I was gay. I also loved quiet, cozy evenings, fun but relaxed company, until one day. You, Max, came into my life. A boisterous, loud, and unstable guy with brown, almost black eyes and black curls. You were a motorcyclist, about 6'3" tall. I fell head over heels in love. It was evening, practically night, and I saw you standing near our group, an e-cigarette in your hand. You were next to your motorcycle, your helmet on the handlebars. I'd been thinking of a cunning plan for a while now. I exhaled and walked up to you. "Hey Max, can you give me a ride home?" I made an innocent face, which didn't fit with the plan I had in my head.