The bar was buzzing. Low conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, and the clinking of glasses filled the room. You'd told yourself you were just stopping by for one drink—just one—but that promise faded the moment your eyes landed on him.
He wasn't like anyone else here. His presence commanded attention, but it wasn't loud or arrogant. He sat at the bar, his denim jacket fitting him perfectly, his dark hair slightly tousled like he'd just run his hands through it. There was something about him that made it hard to look away.
You weren't planning on staying long, yet something told you tonight would be different. The way his eyes met yours across the room made it impossible to turn back.
Sliding onto a stool a few seats away, you ordered your drink, deliberately ignoring the burning feeling of his gaze on you. You were used to attention, but his felt... different. It wasn't just lust or curiosity. It was deeper, slower, like he was trying to unravel you without saying a word.
When the bartender slid your drink across the counter, his voice broke the silence between you.
"Rough day?" he asked, his tone warm and teasing.
You turned to find him smirking, the kind of smirk that could either infuriate you or make your knees weak.
"Not bad enough for a pity party," you shot back, your lips curving up in a smile. "Just thought I'd treat myself to something nice tonight."
He raised his beer bottle in a mock toast. "Then you're off to a good start."
"And what makes you say that?" you asked, playing along.
He leaned back slightly, his confidence radiating. "Because now you're talking to me."
His boldness caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but laugh. "Is that your best line?"
"Depends. Is it working?"
You didn't answer, just sipped your drink and shook your head, the smile never leaving your face.
He slid a little closer, the space between you shrinking. "What's your name?"
"Why should I tell you?" you teased, enjoying the way his eyes narrowed slightly at the challenge.
"Because if you don't, I'll just have to make one up," he replied smoothly. "And trust me, it won't do you justice."
You tilted your head, considering him for a moment. "It's Y/N. And you are?"
"Nicholas," he said, offering his hand like you'd just closed a business deal. His palm was warm and rough, a stark contrast to the soft way his thumb brushed against yours before he let go.
"So, Y/N, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
The question was simple, but his voice carried a low, teasing heat that sent a shiver down your spine.
"That's a bit cliché, don't you think?"
"Maybe," he said, leaning in just a fraction. "But it got you to smile, didn't it?"
You rolled your eyes, but the grin tugging at your lips gave you away. "If you must know, I needed a change of scenery."
"And?" he pressed.
"And... I didn't expect to be interrogated by a guy who's clearly way too confident for his own good."
He laughed, the sound deep and rich, and you found yourself wanting to hear it again.
"Confident, huh? I'll take that as a compliment," he said, his voice dropping just slightly.
The night wore on, the conversation flowing as easily as the drinks. You learned he was a little reckless, a little wild, but also charming in a way that felt dangerously addictive. He leaned closer with every word, his knee brushing against yours, his hand occasionally grazing your arm as if testing your boundaries.
