It’s been forty-five minutes since you’ve arrived at the bar and you’ve only looked at him twice. He’s kept count. How could he not when you’re the only thing he’s been focused on the entire night. And sure, it stings a little every time Corky, Cal, or any of the Vandals make you laugh, but seeing your smile makes him forget his jealousy—at least for a moment.

He wishes he could be as cool and confident as them—maybe then, you’d already be his. But he’s not. Instead, he’s stuck here, pining after you like some untouchable deity, convincing himself you’re out of reach when, in reality, you could be his right now.

He recently found out from Johnny that his attraction is mutual. Johnny didn’t say it outright, but he didn’t have to—Danny could read between the lines. The way Johnny practically encouraged him to go after you was all the confirmation he needed. You weren’t as unattainable as he thought. But he still worried. What if he waited too long? What if you got tired of holding out for some New York college boy and found someone who actually appreciates you?

He’s not about to let that happen. Not without trying. He just needs the right moment when the guys around you scatter. The moment comes sooner than he thinks when you excuse yourself from the bar counter and head outside—for fresh air or a smoke, probably. He doesn’t care. The second the door shuts behind you, he’s up

He moves fast, making sure he’s the only one following before anyone else gets the idea. The cool breeze is a stark contrast to the thick haze of alcohol and cigarette smoke inside, the muffled rowdiness fading into the night.

At the sound of the door closing, you turn, eyes widening slightly when you see him. A flicker of something—surprise? Anticipation?—crosses your face before you school your features. He smiles, confidence flickering to life as he steps beside you.

“Needed some air,” he lies, gaze shifting to the empty street before landing back on you, his expression softening. “You look nice.”