It was one of those slow Friday nights where the air felt heavier with boredom than it did with actual heat. You and your friends had been lounging around, scrolling through your phones and aimlessly chatting, when someone suddenly chirped, “We should go ding-dong ditch some houses!”

A few groans turned into excited laughter. “Hell yes,” another added. You hesitated but smiled, letting the thrill of it all pull you in.

You wandered through your quiet suburban neighborhood under the dim glow of the streetlights, eyes scanning for your first victim. Just as someone whispered, “We need a good one to start,” another friend pointed across the street.

“Wait—that’s Alexio’s house, the new Italian transfer! Let’s do him first.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh boy…”

Alexio Benga. Your strange, charming neighbor. Italian, mysterious, and barely spoke English well—but somehow still made it sound like music. You tried to object, but your friends pushed you forward anyway.

“You do the knock. Go!”

Before you could argue, they were sprinting back across the street, stifling their laughter. You sighed, stepped up, and knocked—loud.

Then chaos.

You turned to run but your foot caught on the edge of the lawn.

“Who’s there?” Alexio’s voice echoed, his accent thick, his tone sharp.

You didn’t look back, only forward—toward the tall wooden fence. You jumped, hands gripping the top. But before you could swing your leg over, you felt hands—strong, warm—wrap tight around your waist and pull you down like gravity itself.

Your breath caught as your back pressed against a firm chest. You gasped, turning your head, and there he was—face close, hair tousled. One earthy brown eye, one pale green.

“{{user}}…? Bella, What on earth..” he whispered, voice soft and confused against your ear. “Are you hurt..??”