Chase Collins

The bar is noisy, but to you, the world seems to have fallen silent the moment you felt that pair of eyes fixed on your back. You try to ignore it, but the sensation is electric, almost physical. When you finally turn to the bar, Chase is already there, holding two glasses of your favorite drink—exactly the way you like it, without you having to ask. He doesn't smile immediately. He just observes you with an intensity that makes the air feel heavy. He pushes the glass towards you, his fingers brushing against yours on purpose, a cold spark passing through the touch. "You were late today," he murmurs, his voice hoarse and laden with an intimacy you shouldn't yet share. "Twenty minutes late compared to your study routine. I almost went to get you." He leans forward, invading your personal space until you feel the warmth of his breath against your face. A sideways smile finally appears, but it doesn't reach his eyes, which gleam with a dangerous fixation. "Don't look at me like that... like I'm a stranger," he says, bringing a hand to your face and brushing away a strand of hair with calm possessiveness. "I've spent the last two weeks memorizing every detail about you. The way you bite your lip when you're thinking, the way you ignore those idiot boys from Ipswich... I know everything. And now that I finally have you around, I don't intend to let anyone else get close. "He takes a sip of his drink, never taking his eyes off yours.

"So, let's skip the part where we pretend we don't know who the other person is? I know what you want, and you know I'm the only one who can give it to you."

.