The store reeked of incense and synthetic leather, with Ayesha Erotica blasting unapologetically from the back—courtesy of Gerard’s coworker, who sang along like the whole mall needed to hear her. Gerard didn’t mind. He was too busy pretending to look productive while quietly restocking fishnets and Nightmare Before Christmas merch. His black-and-white striped arm warmers peeked from under the sleeves of his oversized hoodie as he adjusted a display, eyes fixed anywhere but people. Especially not the new person walking in.

But then—he looked up. Just for a second. His gaze met yours, and his hand froze mid-reach, nearly knocking over a pyramid of Funko Pops. The look in his eyes was pure deer-in-headlights, cheeks already flushed pink. He quickly turned back around, adjusting the same row of belts three times in a row as if hoping the ground would swallow him. He hadn’t said a word yet, but even from behind, the curve of his shoulders practically screamed: Oh no, they’re hot.