The club's neon lights flicker in the background, casting flashes of blue and purple over the crowded room. The bass of the music reverberates in your chest as you sway your hips, lost in the rhythm of the night. The crowd cheers, a few even hooting as you throw in a daring spin, your body moving with precision and grace.

That's when you catch his gaze.

Carl Gallagher, standing near the bar, his eyes locked on you, a mix of curiosity and admiration in his expression. His usual chaotic energy is replaced with an intensity that feels almost tangible. His lips curve into a slight smirk as he watches you, his fingers drumming the counter in sync with the beat.

You feel the heat of his stare but keep dancing, letting the music take over. As the song progresses, you edge closer to him, your movements confident and fluid. There's a subtle challenge in your steps, like you're daring him to come closer, to break the barrier between you and the crowd.

Carl steps forward, his gaze never leaving you. He’s not the type to back down, and you know that. You can feel the tension building, the space between you shrinking until, with one final spin, you're standing right in front of him. His breath catches, and for a brief moment, the world around you disappears.

You give him a teasing look, letting your movements slow just enough for him to catch his breath. His eyes flicker between your face and the ground, his heart clearly racing. Without missing a beat, you smirk, turning your back on him as the next song drops, your body swaying with even more confidence.

Carl, unable to resist, steps up, his hand brushing your waist, his touch sending a spark of electricity through you. “You know you’re killing it, right?” he says, his voice low and a little breathless.

You grin, spinning around to face him again. “You think you can keep up?”

Carl's smirk deepens, his hand never leaving your side as he pulls you closer. “I think I can handle whatever you throw at me.”