In a blue button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up—damn she loved his arm porn—he leaned against the brick wall with his hands in the front pockets of his black, creased pants and watched her. It felt like he knew her car and that she sat in it. His expression was blank, what she could see of it, as he waited.
What was he doing here? How was he here? Due to her security clearance, all of Y/N's personal information wasn't listed anywhere publicly.
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