The alley in front of me opens into a dark maw. A stripe of streetlight slashes across the back of my motorcycle, glinting off the edge of the dumpster, and bouncing off the wrought iron ladder hanging from—

“I wouldn’t park there if I were you.”

From somewhere above, Nirvana’s “Something In The Way” plays quietly.

I slow my steps. Sliding my eyes shut, I mentally count to five before seeking out the person belonging to that voice.

“You know, this whole territorial thing was a lot cuter when you were ten,” I say as I look up to where Waylon rests against the railing of his fire escape. He’s about five feet above me, give or take.

He blows out a cloud of smoke. “I’m not trying to be cute.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

My eyes adjust to the shadows enough to make out the sharp line of his jaw, and the visible tick thrumming under his smooth skin. He doesn’t say anything.

My mouth twitches. “Too much?”

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” he grits out.

I arch a brow. “Pot, kettle.”

He glances away, glaring at some distant place above me that I imagine closely resembles a picture of my head on a dart board.

I tilt my head. “You make it a habit trying to spook unsuspecting passers-by, or am I just the lucky exception?”

He mumbles under his breath, and I pick up words like “bane” and “existence.”

I let out a low whistle. “Gotta say, that’s a new record for me. I usually get at least a solid conversation in before I’m promoted to that level of douchedom.”

He blinks and looks down at me with a scrunched look about his face. “That’s not a word.”

I grin. “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as—”

“Seriously?”

I wink. “You’re the one who called out to me from your balcony, Juliet.”

I can practically see the steam coming out of his ears as he glares down at me.

I stare off wistfully as I go on, “You know, I imagined a lot of ways this could go. Seeing you again. Can’t say I pictured this.”

“Did you picture my fist breaking your teeth?” he says through his teeth. “‘Cause that’s looking more and more likely by the second.”

My mouth widens into a grin. “Are you always this violent when you flirt?”

The railing creaks loudly under his fingers, and he flinches as if he’s only just realizing how far he’s leaning forward.

I raise my hands. “Easy, tiger.” I trail my eyes over the rust-flaked contraption. “You don’t need to literally throw yourself at me. I’m more than willing.”