I came up here to escape the crush of the party below—the clinking glasses, the laughter that feels too loud, the way every conversation seems to brush past something real without ever touching it.

The city sprawls out beyond the railing, a constellation of neon and headlights, pulses of color that blur together in the humid night air. Music thuds up through the floor, muffled but insistent.

And then I feel it.

A shift in the air. A presence at my back, close enough that the heat of it pricks along my skin before I even hear the footsteps.

He’s tall—taller than I expected from the way he moves, all coiled stillness. Dark hair falls into his eyes, and the dim light catches the hard line of his jaw, the sharp cut of his cheekbones. He wears a black jacket, sleeves pushed up, forearms bare.

He’s watching me like he’s already decided something.