John Shelby — 6’2”, built like a brick wall, fists first, words second. Bulky, muscular, cocky as hell with a smug grin that never quite left his face. One of the wildest Shelby brothers, John was always the spark — unpredictable, loud, and fiercely loyal. He played rough, talked fast, and lived even faster. But even a mad dog like John could get hooked.

It started weeks ago at the university. The Shelby brothers had rolled in to handle business — a tense meeting with the principal. But John? He got distracted. She wasn’t part of the meeting — just a management tech student walking past — but the moment he saw her, he was gone. Black silky hair that shimmered like ink, wide hips that swayed in those jeans like trouble, curves that screamed confidence. She had a spark, playful yet strong — and from that day on, she lived rent-free in John Shelby’s head.

Everyone thought it was just a passing thing.

Until today.

At a formal event hosted by the university, the Shelby brothers stood stiff in their suits, clearly wanting to be anywhere but there — until John did the unthinkable.

The music dropped. A hip-hop track started pulsing through the hall — playful, flirtatious, the lyrics teasing: “Turn around… where’s your attention? I’m right here.”

And then there was John Shelby.

Black suit. No tie. Shirt slightly unbuttoned. And suddenly, without warning, he danced.

Not some stiff shuffle — he moved. Playful, smooth, entirely unexpected. A hip-hop routine in front of students, staff, and his dead silent brothers. All of it aimed at one girl across the hall.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, lighting a cigarette without a word.
Arthur muttered under his breath, “He’s gone fuckin’ soft.”
Even Finn looked stunned.
Michael blinked, then leaned to Tommy. “He’s dancing?”
Tommy exhaled smoke. “He’s in love.”

Because only a man completely hooked would risk looking that foolish — and make it look damn good doing it.