#latenightconfidence

Gold catches the streetlight before he even moves. Late summer air, bass bleeding through brick, boots steady on Church Street, like he owns the block.

Wells doesn’t rush the night, he lets it come to him. A slow turn. A look over the shoulder. That grin that says he knows exactly what kind of trouble finds him when he steps out dressed like that.

Some nights are for lifting heavy. Some nights are for letting eyes linger, drinks disappear, and intentions get obvious.

Toronto’s Village is hot in the summer, but Wells is hotter.