The bar is loud, crowded, alive in the way places only are after midnight. Lights flash over your shoes bass vibrating through the floor. You’re half-listening to your friend ramble about something when she suddenly grabs your hands.

“Dance with me!”

You laugh, shake your head, and she rolls her eyes before disappearing into the crowd without you. You’re alone at the bar now.

Or — almost.

Someone steps into the space beside you, close enough that your shoulders nearly brush. The scent of cologne cuts through the smoke and spilled alcohol. He doesn’t say anything right away, and for a moment, it feels like he’s waiting for you to look at him first.

You don’t.

He shifts slightly, leaning against the bar with an easy confidence that suggests he’s done this before. You can feel his presence without him needing to announce it — close, deliberate, patient.

When he finally speaks, it’s so calm it almost annoys you.

“Is your friend single?”