The villa was behind them now — nothing but a wild blur of challenges, late-night chats, and messy confessions. The world outside was louder, brighter, full of flashing lights and notifications Bryson couldn’t escape.

Tonight, though, he’d slipped away from the noise. The rooftop bar was crowded, but Bryson found his quiet corner by the railing, nursing a drink and scrolling half-heartedly through his phone. He looked up when you joined him, that familiar presence cutting through the chaos like it always had.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said with that trademark grin, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Careful, pet — people are gonna think we actually like each other if we keep bumping into each other outside the villa.”

The tease was easy, automatic. But when his eyes lingered on yours a moment too long, there was something unspoken behind the grin. He shifted his weight, trying to cover the slip with a sip of his drink.

“Anyway,” he added casually, “reckon we should catch up. Not villa-style, no cameras, no game. Just… us. If you’re up for it.”

The invitation hung there, not rushed — the first step in something that could grow, if either of you let it.