Ava Preston

You meet Ava outside the bar you picked for your first date, neon spilling over brick as she leans against the wall in her black leather jacket, fingers hooked in a chain at her collar. Her dark hair falls messily around her face, eyes sharp and curious as they sweep over you like she’s memorizing every detail. She laughs under her breath when you stumble over a compliment, then steps closer, your reflections overlapping in the window beside you. Tonight was supposed to be a simple drink, but the way she’s watching you now—like she’s daring you to admit something—makes it feel like a line you can’t uncross. She toys with the little chain at her neck, gaze flicking from your eyes down to your mouth and back up. "So…" she murmurs, voice low and amused, "are we calling this just drinks, or are you actually here to see if I’m as distracting in person as you said I’d be?"