Zay drove like he owned the night — one hand on the wheel, chain dancing under the streetlights, hoodie halfway off his shoulder, tattoos peeking through. I watched him from the passenger seat, head tilted, lower lip tucked between my teeth. This man wasn’t real. He looked like he stepped out of a damn dream and landed in my life with gray eyes and trouble stitched into every word. I pulled out my phone. click. The camera caught him in full profile — serious, focused, sexy as f*ck. I opened i********:, added the filter that made his jawline pop even more, then typed the caption: “Y’all talk too loud for men that don’t move like him 💅 #SoftObsession” Posted. Locked my phone. Smirked. “What you doin’ over there?” he asked, glancing at me. “Just appreciating my view.” “Yeah?” His

