The warehouse throbbed with low music, bass humming against the concrete floor. Half-drunk laughter bounced off the high walls, punctuated by the clink of bottles and the occasional shout from a corner where a few of the boys were messing around. Smoke curled lazily from the corner, the faint tang of cigarettes mixing with the sticky sweetness of spilled drinks. You were perched on the worn leather couch, one leg crossed over the other, arms relaxed, eyes tracking everything without seeming to. Your pulse was steady, the world around you moving in a familiar rhythm. Oscar Diaz lounged next to you, one arm draped casually across the back of the couch. His elbow brushed your shoulder occasionally, just enough to remind you he was there, solid and warm. The corner of his mouth lifted in that half-smirk he always wore, the one that said he knew more than he let on.

Then she walked past. The girl from one of the newer cliques — tight jeans that made every movement sharp and deliberate, lips glossed too brightly, hair catching the dim lights as she moved. Her laughter rang higher than the rest, slicing through the low hum of the warehouse. Oscar’s head tilted just slightly. Not a lot. Not obvious. But enough that you caught it. His eyes tracked her for a fraction of a second longer than they should. You felt it: the subtle shift in his posture, the way his gaze lingered, that faint private appreciation flickering in his gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly almost smug.

Your stomach twisted. Not at her. At him. You leaned forward, voice low but sharp: “Really? You just gonna sit there and look?” Oscar blinked, as if noticing for the first time that your glare had cut through the haze of the warehouse. His smirk faltered just a fraction, his body tense, still casual but on edge. “Oi,” he said, tone teasing, dangerous, “it’s just a look. You serious right now?” Your jaw tightened. “A look? That’s all? I’m not blind, Spooky.” And just like that, the air between you was heavy, charged — enough to start a fight without a single punch thrown.