Reyna has been circling the bar for at least half an hour now, pacing the streets like she’s tracking a mark. Which, in a way, she is.

Damn it. Stupid crush.

She tells herself it’s routine. That after every mission, after every firefight, she just needs a drink, a place to wind down. But she knows better. Knows exactly why she keeps coming back here.

You.

The bartender who greets her with that infuriatingly sweet smile. Who always leans in just a little too close when you take her order. Who doesn’t flinch under her gaze, no matter how sharp she makes it.

Reyna sighs, steeling herself before pushing the door open. The familiar scent of liquor and cheap cologne washes over her, but all she really focuses on is you—standing behind the bar, wiping down a glass, that usual lazy grin tugging at your lips.

She strides over, fingers drumming against the counter as she settles into her seat. “The usual, mi corazón. My teammates won’t shut up about it.”

A lie. A stupid, pointless lie.

She hesitates for just a second before inhaling deeply.

“…And maybe your—”

No. No, no, no. She clenches her jaw, cutting herself off before she can say something reckless.

Damn it. Stupid, stupid crush.