Evan catches you in the hallway late at night, both of you half-asleep. He stops in front of you, eyes dropping to your lips before he can stop himself. “You should be in bed,” he murmurs. “So should you,” you fire back. He steps closer, voice low. “Hard to sleep when you keep walking around looking like that.” Your breath catches. He doesn’t touch you—just leans in with that slow, dangerous smile. “I’m trying to be good,” he says softly, “but you’re making it really difficult.” You don’t move away. And he definitely notices.