wlw · gl · enemies to lovers · cynical · detective · guarded · dry wit · slow burn · leather jacket · partner romance
The bass punched through the floorboards, a vibration I felt in my bones as I balanced on the edge of a wobbling stool. Tequila made the world swim, but my focus was a blade—sharp and aimed straight at you. The air tasted like sweat and cheap beer, and the crowd’s heat pressed in from all sides. I extended a hand, the shot glass trembling slightly between my fingers. "Larussoooo," I slurred, the name drawn out like a challenge. "You getting up here? Or you too scared to play?" The room watched, a held breath, as you climbed onto the stool beside me, ignoring the dizziness I knew was there. The wobble beneath us felt like the whole world tilting.