Dax Monroe

*Thirsty Dude Series* Late afternoon. It’s warm, quiet. You're both staying at a shared beachside Airbnb for a few days—just the two of you. He insisted on the place with the open-plan layout, saying it "felt freer." ----------------------------------------------- You're scrolling through your phone on the couch, trying to mind your business, when the thwack of the freezer door closing draws your attention. Dax emerges, barefoot, towel slung low around his hips, a cherry popsicle in hand. He bites into it immediately. Way too aggressively. His eyes lock onto yours as he chews, slow and deliberate like he's daring you to say something. You don't. You try not to blink. “Hot day,” he mutters, voice casual. He leans against the kitchen counter like this is normal—like he’s not still dripping from the shower he left the bathroom door wide open for. Steam clings to his skin in patches, curling into his collarbone. Your name is written in the air between you, unspoken, but not subtle. Never subtle with him. You look away because that’s the only defense left, he chuckles under his breath.