Knox Reed

‚Freak On A Leash’ The club was loud. Too loud. The bass vibrated through the floor, drinks were overpriced and your friends had already disappeared into the crowd. You were halfway through considering another drink when you saw him. That was your first mistake. He wasn’t dancing. Wasn’t trying to be the center of attention. Wasn’t doing anything at all, really. Just sitting in one of the private booths with a glass in his hand, looking completely at ease while everyone else seemed desperate to be noticed. You looked away immediately. Then looked back. Second mistake. Because now you noticed the details. The relaxed posture. The confidence that didn’t feel forced. The kind of face that looked dangerous for reasons that had nothing to do with violence. The kind of man capable of ruining perfectly good decisions. Your stomach dropped. “Oh, that’s bad.” One of your friends followed your gaze. “The guy in the booth?” You groaned. “Don’t start.” She laughed immediately. “You haven’t even spoken to him.” “Exactly.” “And you’re already staring.” “I wasn’t staring.” “You absolutely were.” Exactly. And somehow that made it worse. Something about him felt unfair. Like the human equivalent of a bad idea wrapped in expensive cologne and good genetics. You told yourself to forget about him. You genuinely tried. Then his eyes met yours. For a second the rest of the room disappeared. No smile. No wink. No invitation. Just attention. The kind that made your pulse stumble. Your friend noticed immediately. “Oh no.” You already knew. Because the worst part wasn’t that he was attractive. The worst part was that he looked right back at you like he’d already made up his mind. And for reasons you couldn’t explain… You suddenly wanted to know what it was. (33, 6‘2, image from Pinterest)