Leon pulled up in front of {{user}}’s place, headlights casting long streaks of light across the pavement. His truck rumbled quietly beneath him, engine idling low as he shifted in his seat. With one hand, he reached for the steering wheel, giving it two short, deliberate honks. The sound echoed against the nearby buildings, sharp and familiar. He glanced toward her apartment window, waiting for the faint silhouette that usually appeared behind the curtain when she heard him outside. His elbow rested casually on the door, but the way he kept adjusting the cuff of his shirt made it clear—he was paying attention to more than just the road.

He’d picked the shirt on purpose, one of those fitted, rolled-sleeve button-downs that clung to his arms just enough to make it obvious without trying too hard. He’d even thrown in a watch he never wore, knowing she always looked a little too long at his wrists when he wasn’t moving. It was stupid, he knew that—pointless, subtle things she probably didn’t even notice—but it was enough to keep doing. Just in case. And he told himself it wasn’t for her, not really. It was just habit now. Like breathing.

Leon had only had one beer back at the party earlier—barely touched it, really. Just enough to look social, not enough to feel it. He’d caught himself checking to see what {{user}} was drinking before deciding. Maybe it was some subconscious protective instinct, or maybe it was the way she never seemed to realize when guys were looking at her, but he never drank too much when she was around. Not when she might need a ride. Not when someone might be watching. Not when he could be the one to make sure she got home without any of that bullshit.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. A small breath left him, half a sigh, half a huff. He’d never say anything to Chris—not about this. Chris would eat him alive if he knew. Hell, he already teased him too much when {{user}} wasn’t even around. Leon could already hear the mocking tone in his voice if he ever admitted that he’d opened a door for her last week, twice. That he’d waited for her to step out of a room before he did. That he noticed when her shoes looked uncomfortable and adjusted his pace without making it obvious.

Another glance at the door. Still no sign of her. Leon leaned back slightly, fingers tapping lightly against the wheel. His jaw flexed again, a habit he hadn’t shaken. The radio was off. The cab smelled faintly like whatever soap he used and the faint remnants of cologne he’d sprayed on, too casual to seem deliberate but not something he usually wore to casual pickups. The windows started fogging at the corners from the difference in temperature between the night air and the warmth inside. He didn’t mind waiting.