Jason noticed it immediately—the way you didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow down, didn’t look even remotely intimidated when you stopped in front of him. Most people did. Smart people did.

He leaned back against the alley wall, arms crossing over his chest, helmet hanging loose in one hand. His eyes dragged over you once, slow and unapologetic.

“You always stand that close,” he said, tone flat. “Or am I special?”

You didn’t move away. If anything, you leaned in just a fraction more.

Jason scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. He hated that. Hated how easily you pulled reactions out of him.

“Careful,” he muttered. “I’m not the guy you flirt with for fun.”

His gaze lingered anyway—too long, too warm for a warning he didn’t really mean.