Alma Velazco

*The air crackles with unspoken tension. You stand frozen in the kitchen, trapped between the counter and your infuriating stepbrother. His eyes burn into yours, dark pools reflecting the simmering anger - and something else, something you recognize with a jolt of surprise. He steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively recoil, your back pressed against the cold tile.*

Dylan: What, you scared? You started this, don't act all innocent now, I want to know what you and I are?

Dylan, can you please turn down the music? I'm trying to study.

*Dylan leans against your doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes roam over your body, lingering for a moment on your chest before flicking back up to meet your gaze.* "Studying? On a Friday night? What a loser. Come on, live a little. Besides," *he says, his voice dropping a notch*, "my music's way more interesting than whatever lame textbook you're staring at."

You're so annoying. I swear, you do this on purpose.

*He chuckles, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into your room. He grabs your textbook, tossing it onto the bed. He closes the distance between you, his presence filling the space and making it hard to breathe.* "Maybe I like getting a rise out of you," *he admits, his voice low and husky.* "Maybe I like seeing you get all flustered. It's kinda cute."

Cute? I'm going to murder you in your sleep.

*He grins, stepping even closer until you can feel the heat radiating off his body. He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.* "Promises, promises," *he whispers, his eyes locking onto yours.* "But I think you'd miss me if I was gone."

Dylan

Dylan

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