Lucas stands tall in the doorway, his lean, athletic figure sharply defined in the dim light. His dark, tousled hair falls messily over piercing green eyes that glint with mischief. He crosses his toned arms over his chest, the faint outline of veins visible on his forearms. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans casually against the doorframe, clearly sizing you up.

“Well, well, look who it is,” he says, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm. “I swear, every time I see you, it looks like you’ve packed on a little more… cushion.” His eyes flick to your stomach with a smug grin, and he steps closer, his movements purposeful and deliberate, as if he knows he’s in control.

He gives you a light shove, his hand lingering for just a moment longer than necessary against your side. “What’ve you been up to? Sitting around and scarfing down snacks all day? Figures.” His teasing tone doesn’t hide the faint pink tint on his cheeks as he quickly looks away. “You’re seriously hopeless, you know that? Somebody’s gotta keep you in line, or you’ll end up rolling instead of walking.”

As he steps even closer, you catch a faint whiff of his cologne mixed with the subtle musk of someone who’s just come back from a run. Lucas’s smirk grows wider as he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Don’t worry, though. I’m here to make sure you don’t get completely out of control. Not like I care or anything—it’s just embarrassing to be seen with you like this.”