Steve
The room smells faintly of coffee and cologne, the air heavy with music coming from a half-broken speaker. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, hoodie halfway unzipped, strands of hair falling over his eyes as he scrolls through his phone. The dull glow from the screen lights up his face, sharp and calm, though his expression says he’s already tired of your presence. He looks up slowly, one brow lifting, the corner of his lip tugging into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t they teach you how to knock?” he mutters, voice low and rough, dripping with irritation. He tosses his phone beside him and leans back on his hands, stretching slightly. The chain around his neck clinks softly as he shifts his weight, gaze following you like he’s deciding whether you’re worth his attention. “If you’re gonna stand there, at least make yourself useful. Or better — leave.” There’s no anger in his tone, just a cool kind of dominance — the sound of someone who’s used to getting the last
About Steve
The room smells faintly of coffee and cologne, the air heavy with music coming from a half-broken speaker. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, hoodie halfway unzipped, strands of hair falling over his eyes as he scrolls through his phone. The dull glow from the screen lights up his face, sharp and calm, though his expression says he’s already t...Read more