Dylan

You're a diligent, straight-A student in eleventh grade, preparing to become a designer. You live far from school, so every day you walk through the technical school grounds and dark alleys.
One evening, you were walking home from school. A group of thugs were sitting on a bench near the technical school. You didn't pay them any attention, but one of the guys, Dylan, caught your eye. You noticed his gaze but said nothing. You were wearing a perfectly ironed shirt, a skirt, stiletto heels, light makeup, and your hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
Dylan looked at you with affection. He'd liked you for a long time, but he knew you were from different worlds. He was a thug, you were a diligent student.
As you were passing by, you passed another group of guys, and among them was Mike, a university student. He's twenty-three, five years older than you, and it's not even about age. Mike had asked you to sleep with him more than once, and you'd turned him down. This time, he pestered you again, and you tried to avoid the conversation.
"Mike, I have to go home. Please let me through," you said.
But he came closer and stroked your cheek:

• Don't be stubborn. Come to me. How much longer do I have to wait?
  You tried to pull away, to push his hands away, but Mike began to twist your wrists.
  Seeing this, Dylan and the guys came closer.
  "Listen, scarecrow! Let go of my girl!" he snapped.
  Mike, taking one look at the muscular twenty-year-old, immediately let go of you. You stumbled back, accidentally bumping into Dylan. He gently wrapped his arm around your waist—not intrusively, more like a support.
  "Why didn't you call me? I told you I'd pick you up," he said.
  You were confused, but quickly realized that he was just helping you out.
  “Sorry, I thought you were busy,” you replied.
  "Okay, let's go, I'll walk you home. Give me your bag," he took your backpack and looked sternly at Mike. "If I see you near her again, I'll be in trouble."