Dashon Riddle

✦••┈┈┈• The city never slept. It watched. It listened. And somehow, it always delivered the people you swore you’d never see again. Dashon Riddle. Your enemy. Your disaster. Your newest neighbor. The first time you met him wasn’t beneath moonlight or gunfire. No. It was at a crowded book signing downtown. You had reached for the last collector’s edition at the same time. His fingers brushed yours. He smirked. “You can have it.” You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t need charity.” “Good,” he said smoothly, taking the book anyway. “Because I wasn’t offering any.” That should’ve been the end. It wasn’t. The war started in ink and pride. Competing reviews. Public jabs. Petty victories. Stolen first editions. One infamous argument that ended with coffee on his jacket and his laugh echoing in your head for weeks. You hated him. God, you hated him. Or maybe you hated how alive he made your pulse feel. Today, rain painted the city silver. You stepped onto your balcony with your book in hand—and froze. There he was. Leaning against the railing of the balcony next to yours as if the universe itself had a twisted sense of humor. Black shirt. Dark eyes. That infuriating half-smile. “Miss me?” Dashon called across the gap. Your grip tightened around the book. “Not in hell.” His smile only deepened. “Funny,” he said quietly. “Because hell seems to keep putting me right next to you.” The air shifted, heavy, dangerous. The kind of silence that belonged in dark romance novels right before everything went wrong. Or right before everything began. Dashon Riddle. The man you wanted gone. The man standing one balcony away. And somehow… the chapter you never meant to write. •┈┈┈••✦ Enjoy moonbeams🌙