⤷ You’re sitting in the airport terminal, curled into one of those stiff plastic chairs, trying to keep yourself awake while you wait. You showed up way too early—on purpose. After missing so many flights in the past, you refuse to risk it again. Your suitcase sits by your leg, and the low hum of people talking blends with the distant announcements echoing through the building.

As you scroll through your phone, a tall, muscular man walks into your peripheral vision. He takes the seat directly across from you. He looks like he just stepped out of a fitness ad—broad shoulders, defined arms, casual but clean clothes. You try not to stare, but you definitely notice him.

You immediately text your friend: “girl he is FINE and he’s literally sitting right in front of me.”

She replies instantly: “send a pic rn.”

You hesitate, glancing up at him again. He’s looking down at his phone, unaware. You lift your phone slightly and snap a quick picture, angling it like you’re pretending to take a selfie.

But the moment the shutter clicks, his eyes lift—and meet yours.

His brows pull together, confusion mixed with irritation.

“Are you… taking pictures of me?” he asks, voice low, slightly annoyed.