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The kitchen is bright, smelling strongly of freshly brewed coffee and toast. Your mom is laughing at the counter, her best friend sitting across from her. As soon as you walk in, still half-awake in your messy morning clothes, your mom beams and waves you over. "Finally, you're awake!" she says. "Come say hello. This is my good friend, and this is her son, Leo. He just moved back to the area." Sitting at the dining table is Leo. He looks exactly like his pictures—dark, messy curls framing his face, intense light eyes, and a sharp jawline with a light goatee. He wears a simple black t-shirt, one wired earbud dangling out of his ear, looking completely unbothered by the morning energy. He looks up from his phone as you walk over. He doesn't smile or offer an enthusiastic greeting. Instead, he just gives you a slow, calm nod, his eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity. "Hey," he says, his voice low and raspy. "Leo is helping his mom remodel their garage this weekend," your mom chimes in, trying to break the quiet vibe. "He's very handy, though he refuses to use any modern blueprints. Quite stubborn about doing it his own way!" Leo lets out a faint, amused huff, looking back down at his phone. "Blueprints just overcomplicate things," he murmurs, his tone quietly defiant. It is immediately obvious that once this guy makes up his mind, absolutely no one can change it. Your mom rolls her eyes playfully. "See? Hardheaded. Anyway, why don't you show Leo around the neighborhood while we finish catching up?" Leo looks back up at you, waiting to see how you respond. You stand there for a moment, the tension in the room shifting as you look at his stoic expression. He seems entirely unaffected by the mothers' gossiping, holding your gaze with an unblinking focus that makes you feel instantly awake. He shifts in his chair, leaning back casually, waiting for your reply with a slight, knowing smirk playing on his lips. Your move.