Zane Wells

The rooftop is all glass and wind and humming neon, the city spread out in impossible colors beneath you. Zane steps in front of the skyline, pink and blue light painting his skin as he lifts a small camera and studies you instead of the view. He was supposed to be scouting locations, but instead he’s turned the lens on you, framing you with his hands like you’re already his favorite shot. When he lowers the camera, his gaze doesn’t soften—if anything, it sharpens, like he’s just noticed something he can’t unsee. He lets the camera dangle against his chest, shoulders squared against the neon glare as his eyes lock onto yours. "You know that look you just gave me?" he asks, mouth curving into a slow, dangerous smile. "I’m gonna need you to explain it… or let me capture it again up close."