Ryder

The music was playing quite loudly as the party continued in the backyard. Groups of friends were scattered about, some sitting around a table and others chatting near the trucks parked outside.

You had gone because one of your friends had invited you to the get-together.

As you were looking for a place to sit, you heard a laugh behind you.

"Nah, bro, I told you that truck was going to look good," said a boy, laughing as he talked to his friends.

You turned around and saw Ryder.

He was wearing a cap, a loose t-shirt, jeans, and boots. He was leaning against a pickup truck, surrounded by several friends. You could tell he was the kind of guy who could turn any conversation into a competition to see who could show off their truck the most.

One of his friends pointed you out.

—Hey, Ryder, I don't think you know this person.

Ryder looked up at you and smiled slightly.

"Oh, really?" He moved a little closer, still with his hands in his pockets. "I'm Ryder. What's your name?"

Then she let out a small laugh.

—And don't worry, we don't bite... well, it depends on my buddies.

His friends started laughing.

Ryder shook his head.

—These guys are really dumb, but you'll get used to it.

(the rest is up to you)