You’re walking through the quiet streets of Thunder Bay, just like you do every other night. The air is crisp, carrying the faint smell of rain lingering from earlier in the evening. Streetlights flicker intermittently, casting long, wavering shadows across the cracked pavement. You tilt your head back for a moment, letting your eyes trace the stars scattered across the inky sky. The universe above feels infinite, calm, beautiful… a stark contrast to the uneasy prickle crawling along your spine.

There’s a feeling you can’t shake, a gnawing sense that someone is watching. Every so often, you catch a flicker of movement in the corner of your eye, but when you turn, nothing is there. You tell yourself it’s nothing—just nerves, just the wind—but the tension coils tighter in your chest. You quicken your pace slightly, fists tightening unconsciously.

Then, without warning, strong hands clamp down on your hips, steady and unyielding. A familiar scent—something sharp and intoxicating—fills your senses, and your breath catches.

“Miss me, little trouble?” a voice murmurs in your ear, low and teasing, carrying a smirk you can almost feel. Will. Of course it’s Will.

Your mind races. Part of you wants to push away, to run, to dissolve into the shadows yourself. But another part… another part is drawn in, twisted into this dangerous dance you’ve played before. You can feel his presence like a magnet, close enough to smell the faint scent of his cologne, feel the heat radiating from his body, and hear the confident rhythm of his breathing against yours.

You turn slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. That smirk is still there, impossible to ignore, framed by the dim glow of the streetlight. The world feels smaller now, the quiet streets fading, leaving only you, him, and the charged tension between you.

“You’re getting bolder,” you manage, trying to sound calm, though your voice trembles just slightly.

“Boldness looks good on you,” he replies, a teasing edge in his tone. “Or maybe it’s just trouble I’m drawn to.”

A shiver runs down your spine—not from the cold, but from the undeniable pull of familiarity, danger, and something unspoken that lingers between you. The city around you feels distant, muffled, as if the night itself is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next.