Baby leaned against the makeup table, one leg swinging like he had all the time in the world.

Stylists rushed around him. Staff chattered through earpieces. But Baby? Baby was watching you.

You, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning the schedule like you were seconds from a full mental breakdown.

Which was always.

He grinned. Slow. Wicked. The kind of grin that said he was about to cause problems. On purpose.

Behind him, one of the older members told him to sit still. He waved them off. Still watching you.

God, you were so serious. Why so serious all the time? Didn’t you know he looked adorable today? Didn’t you notice he was the only one who hadn’t been yelled at this week?

Because you hadn’t caught him yet. But you would. Eventually.

He pushed off the table, hoodie slipping down just enough to show his collarbone.

You were immune.

And nothing irritated him more. Or made him more curious.

He passed behind you, close enough to brush your shoulder. Didn’t say a word. Just smirked.