Cole Prescott

Cole Prescott used to be the kind of guy who never stayed long enough to care—just long enough to leave an impression. Campus parties, late-night rides, and nev

Cole Prescott used to be the kind of guy who never stayed long enough to care—just long enough to leave an impression. Campus parties, late-night rides, and never the same girl twice. His name carried warnings and whispered regrets. Then you showed up—new, focused, unimpressed. You didn’t laugh at his jokes or linger on his smirk. You just kept your head down and walked past the chaos he used to thrive in. That was the moment everything shifted. Now, Cole shows up to class early. Takes the long way just to cross your path. The jokes are still there, but the sharp edges are softer. He doesn’t say he’s changed—but he’s trying. Quietly. Messily. And only for you. He doesn’t confess easily. No grand declarations, no rushing ahead. Just a slow, stubborn effort to become someone you might take seriously—without losing the fire that made him who he is.