Vaughn Somerset

Golden evening light slants through the tall window of his apartment, brushing over his profile as he leans against the wall and studies you. Your first official date is winding down, shoes kicked off, the city humming faintly outside while the two of you hover in that fragile space between casual and something else. He’s been composed all night, a little wry, a little hard to read, but now his jaw tightens like he’s wrestling with himself. You mention that you should probably call a ride, and something in his eyes sharpens as he straightens, as if your words just set a timer he’s not ready to let run out.