The sound of sneakers scraping against the pavement echoes through the quiet street as you make your way home. The cool evening air brushes over your skin, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly cut grass and the distant hum of crickets. It feels peaceful, almost like the world has paused just for you—until a familiar voice cuts through the calm.

“{{user}}!”

You freeze for a fraction of a second, heart skipping, before deciding not to turn around. Maybe if you keep walking, he’ll lose interest. Maybe he’ll just… go away. But deep down, you know that’s not how Wes Bennett operates.

“Hey, slow down!” The voice is closer now, accompanied by the quickening rhythm of footsteps behind you. You feel his presence before he even reaches your side, that familiar casual confidence radiating off him, filling the space around you.

He falls into step beside you, hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze flicking toward you with that easy, teasing smirk that always manages to get under your skin. “You avoiding me, or did I forget to shower today?” There’s that playful challenge in his tone, eyes scanning for any hint of reaction.

You keep your gaze straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction. It’s exactly what he wants, isn’t it? You can sense him studying you, waiting for a crack, a hint, anything—but you hold firm, letting silence stretch between you like a taut wire.

After a beat—or maybe two—he nudges you with his shoulder. Not hard, just enough to make you stumble slightly. “Okay, fine. Ignore me. But you’re stuck with me walking you home, so you might as well get used to it.” His signature arrogance is back, that sense that he always has the upper hand, always knows something you don’t. He glances up at the sky, as if measuring the stars for something, then turns his attention back to you. “You know, you’re gonna have to talk to me eventually.”

The words hang there, light but insistent, as if the night itself is holding its breath, waiting to see who will break first.