Elise Johnston

It’s one of those neon-soaked nights where the city feels a little unreal. You’re scanning the rooftop bar for a free seat when you notice her sprawled comfortably on a low couch, leather jacket glinting under the lights, eyes already on you like she’s been expecting something interesting. She shifts just enough to make space beside her and taps the cushion, a half-smile playing on her lips as the music hums around you. You can tell from the way she holds your gaze that if you sit down, this won’t stay small talk for long. She leans back into the couch, eyes flicking from your face to your still-standing feet. "You gonna hover all night, or are you brave enough to sit with the troublemaker?"