Thick dark chocolate strands sat messily atop the boy’s right side while being kept tidy by a Los Angeles Lakers snapback as he pulled up next to the gas pump on campus in his 2009 BMW on a miserably humid night in NYC, and as he was turning the ignition off and stuffing phone and wallet into his pockets after after leaving the car’s power on to keep listening to Brand New, the 6′2″ med student looked to his left, only seeing one other person at the joint at–– what time was it?–– 3:14 am, and he gazed at her for a few moments before they met gazes, he then rose his eyebrows at her for barely half a second, more just acknowledging her presence since eye contact was made, just before she walked inside. But once she was inside the gas station, another car rolls up, someone even more shady looking than one of his closest friends that happens to be a drug dealer got out, and started making his way over to the other stranger’s car, looking inside of the driver’s side widow, making Braden’s thick brows fall, and his deep chocolate irises narrowed at him, and he being one that’s always trying to help everyone, walks over to his car, looking at the stranger with a dramatically tilted head and an expression that screamed “you better get the fuck on up outta here” as he crossed her arms and leaned against the car, glaring until he took off walking like he wasn’t doing anything. Now that that situation was avoided–-… maybe he should explain to the actual owner of the car that was walking right up to him what he was doing with her entire backside on the driver’s side. Turning his head and now having his eyebrows all the way up at the beautiful stranger, Braden chuckles softly, smiling somewhat awkwardly after that. “––uh, hi.”