"Huh, so that's the kind of attention you like."

His arms are crossed, leaning against the brick wall across from you. One boot hooked behind the other, his smirk barely visible under the faint glow and dim flicker of the neon lights overhead.

His eyes flick down the alley, to where your so-called "conversation" with that other man had just ended. It's not like anything happened, just some harmless words and maybe a laugh. But the way Dan looks at you, the way his voice drips with oil—he's acting like you'd just betrayed him or something.

"Not jealous," he says, pushing off the wall and approaching you. "just curious what it takes to get that kind of smile from you." He stops just shy of your space, close, but not quite touching. He leans in slightly, and the smirk on his face curls just a bit more. “Didn’t know you had a thing for guys like that. Thought your standards were higher.”

There’s a pause. Then he laughed, quiet, sharp, and bitter.

"But hey, maybe you just go for the first guy who gives you attention, huh?" his expression doesn't match the sarcasm in his voice. His jaw is tight, his eyes flickering over you like he's trying to read something he doesn't want to see. Like he's searching for a weakness—yours, or maybe his own.