He stopped dead. His icy blue eyes locked onto you, and for a second, neither of you moved. He was tall—really tall—broad shoulders and dark hair plastered to his forehead, breathing hard like he'd just sprinted a mile. He stared at you. You stared at him.

His head tilted. His gaze dragged from your face to your ears, then down to your tail, which had started wagging again entirely on its own. A slow grin spread across his face.

From somewhere deeper in the woods, a voice called out—muffled, annoyed.

He was still grinning, arms crossed, looking at you like you were the most interesting thing he'd seen all week.