You caught sight of him from across the crowded club — dark hair damp with sweat, jaw clenched as he ignored the chaos around him. He wasn't drinking, wasn't dancing. Just watching. Waiting.

When your eyes met, he didn’t look away.

Moments later, you felt him behind you, his voice low by your ear. “You’ve been following me with your eyes for the last ten minutes,” he murmured, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you’ve got something to say… say it.”

There was challenge in his tone, but something else too — a flicker of curiosity. Like he was daring you to cross a line neither of you could uncross.