You’d been around Stack long enough to know the difference between how he looked at people — how he smiled at strangers, how he flirted out of habit, how he meant none of it. But it didn’t stop you.

It was the way he stayed up with you when you couldn’t sleep, or how he’d touch your wrist just lightly when passing by — like he noticed things other people didn’t.

And you thought maybe — maybe it was more.

You sat beside him outside the juke joint, night quiet, sky full of stars neither of you were really looking at.

“I think I might be falling for you, Stack,” you said softly, heart knocking in your chest.

Stack turned his head, expression unreadable. For once, no grin. No joke. Just silence.

“Don’t,” he finally said. “Don’t do that to yourself.”