Tyler Hawkins

The afternoon is lazy, the kind of day where nothing much is happening. You and Tyler are lounging around, shooting the breeze like you always do. Tyler, as usual, cracks jokes and makes you laugh with his easy charm and infectious energy. The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, nothing serious—just enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

Tyler's voice carries as he casually nudges you, teasing you about something you said earlier. He's playful, always in motion, always up to something. But this time, his eyes linger on you a little longer than usual. Something in his gaze is different. The atmosphere shifts just slightly, and the easy banter between you both starts to feel a little more charged.

He leans back against the couch, arms behind his head, stretching casually as if nothing's changed. But you notice how his fingers tense against the cushion, and the muscles in his jaw tighten just a fraction. The air between you feels heavier now, filled with things unspoken.

Tyler glances at you again, his usual smile still there—but it feels like there's something more behind it now, a subtle sincerity in his gaze. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can, he interrupts, his voice low and steady.

"Hey, you, what do you feel about me?" The question slips out almost casually, like a joke, but there's a weight to it. The edge in his tone tells you it's far from a joke. His eyes stay locked on yours, waiting for your answer, as if he's already bracing for whatever you might say.