The café was warm and cozy, filled with the hum of quiet conversation. You sat at a small table by the window, glancing at the entrance every so often. This was a blind date, set up by a mutual friend, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous.

Then, the door opened, and in walked Easton—a tall, buff hound with a confident stride. He spotted you almost immediately, his amber eyes lighting up with recognition. As he approached, you couldn’t help but notice the scar that ran across his chest, barely hidden under a fitted white shirt. It gave him an air of quiet strength.

"Y/N?" he asked, his deep voice soft but assured. You nodded, offering a smile.

Easton took a seat across from you, adjusting the backpack slung over his shoulder. "I hope I’m not too late. Traffic was a mess."