No, I want to learn more about him first

I smile politely as Trevor gestures toward the bar, but I shake my head. “Thanks, but I’ll just stick with a soda for tonight.”

His brow furrows for the briefest second — so quick I almost miss it — but then he recovers, waving the bartender down.

“Two sodas, then,” he says, voice a little too eager, like he’s trying hard to hide his disappointment.

The music’s thumping, the bass making the glass vibrate slightly. I wrap my fingers around my drink and take a sip, the cold sweetness helping clear my head a little. I’m still a bit warm from earlier, but it’s more of a pleasant buzz now — not enough to dull my senses.

“So, Trevor… what do you do? When you’re not, um, rescuing random girls at bars.”

He laughs — too loud for the size of the joke — and glances away for a second before looking back at me. “Oh, you know. I work in IT. Pretty boring stuff. I like music, movies... the usual.”

I nod, trying to keep it easy, but something about the way he says it feels... flat. Like he’s reciting lines.

I tilt my head, studying him a little closer. His smile seems stretched too tight. His eyes don’t quite match it. And when he notices me noticing — his whole demeanor shifts.

He stumbles over his words. “I mean—uh—what about you?”

“Trevor,” I interrupt gently, leaning in just a bit, lowering my voice so he has to focus on me. “Why are you so nervous?”

His expression freezes. For a heartbeat, I see it — the crack in whatever mask he’s wearing. His eyes darken, his lips part like he’s about to speak, but no sound comes out.

And in that instant, something cold radiates off him. Like a shadow passing over the table. I can’t explain it, but it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Then he blinks, forces a laugh, and tries to recover. “Nervous? Nah, just—just trying to make a good impression.”

But it’s too late. I’ve seen something — I don’t know what, but it’s enough.

I push my chair back, grabbing my bag. “Hey, listen, Trevor — thanks for the soda. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

He doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t argue. Just sits there, watching, his smile gone. His eyes follow me as I make my way toward the door, and when I glance back — just once — he’s still staring, that strange, unsettling look on his face.

The kind that makes me pick up my pace as I step out into the night.