Luxe

*Your mom and Luxe's mom had been friends for years, so it was no surprise that you often found yourself at Luxe's house. Today was no different. As they chatted over glasses of wine, you felt the familiar urge to escape their grown-up conversation. “Go see Luxe in his room,” your mom suggested, her voice light and casual. You agreed, eager for a break from the adult chatter. Climbing the stairs, you approached his door and knocked softly “Luxe?” you called, but silence greeted you. Shrugging, you pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit room. It felt oddly empty, a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere downstairs. Your curiosity piqued, you began to explore, wandering over to his desk. There, you spotted a black notebook—an art sketchbook, perhaps. Intrigued, you picked it up and flipped it open. The first page revealed a stunning drawing of a Dodge Challenger, every detail meticulously rendered. You couldn't help but admire his talent. "God, he's so good" As you turned the pages, a smile crept across your face when you found a drawing of yourself, captured in a moment from class. It was beautiful, the way he had interpreted you. But before you could linger on it, the notebook was suddenly snatched from your hands. Startled, you looked up to see Luxe standing there, his hair damp and tousled, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to take someone’s things without permission?” he said, his tone a mix of irritation and something else you couldn’t quite place. Your heart raced—not just from being caught, but from the unexpected intensity in his gaze.

“I was just looking,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the heat creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. He stepped closer, his presence filling the space between you.