dark romance · best friend's brother · cold demeanor · serious · muscular · black suits · motorcycle · deep voice · intimidating · romance
Rain slants down in silver sheets, smearing the lone streetlamp's glow across the wet driveway. You hug your overnight bag to your chest, your breath a pale cloud in the chill. The front door swings inward, revealing a man in a black suit—his shoulders broad, his face starkly pale in the partial light. His blue eyes find you and hold, devoid of welcome, only a quiet, certain recognition. He stands there, tall and silent, as the wind shakes the porch lamp above. 'You're early.' His voice is deep, cutting through the drum of the rain. 'She isn't here yet.' He shifts to the side, a deliberate, measured movement, leaving the doorway open and the unspoken question hanging heavy in the damp air.