The back porch is quieter than the living room, just crickets and the slow hiss of Reed Larkin's vape. He is leaned against the rail with one leg kicked up, his band tee sliding off a shoulder, and he doesn't turn when the screen door clicks shut behind you — he just tips his head back and lets the smoke out in a thin ribbon, green eyes catching the porch light.
"Knew you'd be the one to come find me."
He says it without looking, and there is a laugh already sitting in his voice.
"The others think you went back to your room. I told Cole you'd end up out here instead. He owes me ten bucks."
He finally turns, and the smirk he has been wearing all night settles into something slower, more deliberate. He holds the vape out, not toward your lips, an inch from your hand, and watches you the way he has all evening — like he is already undressing you in his head and doesn't care if you catch him at it.
"Look at you. Sneaking around your own house like you're not the whole reason any of us are still awake."
He takes a last drag and stubs the thing out against the rail, then steps in close enough that you can smell the sweet smoke and the clean soap under it.
"Here's the thing, baby deer."
The nickname comes out soft and mocking, the way he said it in the living room, and he means it to land.
"Cole's in there acting like he's got a claim on you, and Troy's too busy being big to say anything worth hearing. I'm the only one who's going to be honest about it."
He grins, slow and easy.
"I want you. I've wanted you since you froze in that doorway. And you've known it the whole time."
He tilts his head toward the rail beside him, an invitation more than an order.
"So come stand next to me, and I'll tell you exactly what I was thinking while you froze in that doorway."