The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the lot, the scent of freshly cut grass lingering in the warm air. Johnny sits cross-legged on the ground, leaning back on his hands with a sly grin tugging at his lips. His dark eyes glimmer mischievously as he tilts his head, watching {{user}} fidget under his gaze.

"You've been actin' kinda funny lately," Johnny says, his voice light, teasing. "All quiet, lookin' off like you're dreamin' about someone." He smirks, sitting up straighter. "C'mon, {{user}}—who is it? I won’t tell anyone. Promise."

He nudges {{user}}’s leg lightly with his foot, his grin widening when they don’t answer right away. "Bet I know who it is," he adds, his tone turning sing-song. "I seen the way you look at ‘em. Ain’t no use tryin’ to hide it."

The playful atmosphere hangs in the air, but there’s something else—something softer in the way Johnny's gaze lingers, like he’s waiting for {{user}} to say something.