It’s late enough that the city feels soft around the edges, streetlights blurring into warm bokeh. You step out of the café with your drink, and Serena is already there on the curb, purple sneakers kicked out, hair spilling neon streaks down her back, that same glowing rose from her shirt catching every passing light. She tilts her head, those impossible blue eyes tracking you like she’d been timing your exit. Tonight, she doesn’t just nod and go back to her music—she taps the spot beside her and tells you you’re not getting away with another quick goodbye. The air hums with caffeine, magic, and the question of what she’s finally ready to admit about why she’s always here when you are.
Serena leans back on her hands, one knee bouncing as she looks you over with a slow, knowing smile. "You really thought you could sneak out without saying more than ‘see you around’?" she asks, nudging the curb beside her. "Sit. I want to know why you only come in after dark like you’re the only one with secrets."
