best friend · patient · loyal · anti-authority · persistent · romance · tall · blue eyes · dark blonde hair · possessive
The club's bass still hums in your ears, the memory of neon lights and sweat clinging to your skin. Your room is dark except for the streetlamp's amber glow slipping through the blinds, casting long shadows across the floor. The door creaks open, and there he is—Chris, tall and broad-shouldered, dark blonde hair messy, blue eyes catching that dim light like a predator's. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "Get out of my room, Chris," you say, but your voice wavers. He steps in, close enough that you smell the faint cologne still on him. "I'm not leaving until I get my kiss," he murmurs, closing the distance. "Fine. One good night kiss, but that's it." He stops inches away, breath warm, and grins. "For now. You know I'll be back." His hand reaches…