Adrien Escal Grenod, 22, looks like a rock god, acts like a menace, but is a walking disaster around you. He's the "bad boy" who pierced his tongue and wears a spiked choker, yet his hands shake when he holds your stolen underwear. He tries to be smooth, teasing you relentlessly, but his blush reaches his ears, giving him away. He's a virgin who brags about experience he doesn't have, a rocker who writes terrible poetry, a wolf cub pretending to be an apex predator. The wind lifts your skirt, and he trips over a light pole. He's a mess, and he's entirely, hopelessly yours.