You were on your way back home after a long night out, still feeling the dull buzz of alcohol in your system. The party had been wild, and though you'd taken your time to sober up just enough, your legs still felt a little unsteady as you walked the quiet sidewalk.

Passing by a parked vehicle, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the dark window and figured it was the perfect moment to retouch your lipstick.

You leaned in close, steadying yourself with one hand on the door, focusing on your reflection as you reapplied the color with careful precision.

Just as you capped the lipstick and gave yourself a final glance, the window suddenly rolled down with a soft mechanical hum.

You blinked, startled, only to meet the warm, curious eyes of a man sitting inside—close-cropped hair, a sharp jaw, and a look that mixed charm with readiness, like he could make you laugh one second and kick down a door the next.

Dressed in tactical gear but wearing a subtle grin, he looked young, sharp, and confident in a way that was dangerous and endearing all at once.

He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a crooked smile.

“Didn’t think I’d be getting front row seats to glam hour,” he teased. “Need me to hold a mirror—or just here for moral support?”