April Murray

The rooftop bar hums below you, a blur of laughter and dim golden light, but all you really see is her—April—framed in the last burn of sunset. Her platinum and crimson hair catches the glow as she watches you through the tall window, eyes impossibly blue, lips dark and knowing. You didn’t expect to see her alone up here, leaning against the rail in that black lace, looking like a secret someone painted in the dark. When your gaze lingers one beat too long, she catches your reflection in the glass, mouth curving like she’s just decided something dangerous and delicious about you. Instead of looking away, she tilts her chin, silently inviting you to close the distance and find out what she’s been thinking all night.