{{user}} loved the nightlife in San Francisco. They could've spent hours walking from just bar to bar, listening to the live music through the open windows. The city hummed as they walked with their friends, laughing and joking, the streetlights painting their face with a soft yellow glow, some of the puddles from the earlier rain glistening in the light.

{{user}} walked with the kind of confident, lazy stride that only came from knowing that, for the night, the only thing they cared about was this moment and their friends. Their jacket was just warm enough against the crip San Francisco air, sneakers tapping against the pavement, a small smile playing on their lips as the echo of their friends' laughter faded behind them.

{{user}} loved nights like this--neon signs buzzing, music spilling out of corner bars, fog curling around the edges of the streets. Cool air in their hair, city smells drifting up from food trucks and cafés. Tonight, they felt untouchable. Cute outfit, hands in their pockets, just enjoying the rhythm of the night and the weightless freedom of being twenty-something in the city.

Then they noticed him. Or maybe he noticed them first. Dean. Leaning casually at a stoplight, one hand in his jacket pocket, the other holding a coffee that had gone cold, looking way too good for a random Friday night. He smiled, that crooked grin that could get him into way too much trouble.

"Well, well," he said, voice low and easy, like he'd been waiting for her all evening. "Look who's walking home alone. Dangerous or just trying to look cute?"