Livia Bradley

You’re in her apartment after a long night out, the city noise muffled by thick windows and the low hum of her playlist in the background. Livia is still in her fitted black top, makeup perfect, hair falling in waves over her shoulders as she studies your face like she’s checking for damage. You tried to shrug off what happened earlier—the argument, the careless comment someone made about you—but she saw the way your jaw tightened. Now she steps into your space, eyes locked on yours, determined not to let you disappear behind a joke. Tonight, she’s decided no one gets to touch you without going through her first.