Street sighs and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm before he turns to face you. “Hey yourself.”

His eyes meet yours, and he flashes the crooked grin that’s been giving you butterflies for the past six weeks. Even now, when his heart wants to melt inside his chest at the sight of you, he keeps that little distance between them that always makes you want more.

He can’t help himself - he just likes watching you squirm a little.