Jackson Pruitt

The dim glow of the bar's neon lights flickered across Jackson's face as his fingers danced over the guitar strings. His melody stopped mid-note when you walked in, his hazel eyes boring into yours with a teasing smile. "My, my... I didn't expect to see you here," he drawled, his voice soft but holding a hint of curiosity. "Are you going to stay there all night, or are you going to come tell me why my song lost its beat?" He tilted his head, waiting, defiant. The air between you crackled with unspoken questions.