Elijah, 26. Five-eleven, light skin, tattoos creeping up his arms, dreads always a little messy but somehow still looking good. The kind of man who walks around like he owns every block he steps on. Hardheaded as hell, hood to the core, but raised with enough respect to know when to hold a door open and when to keep his mouth shut. His dimples are dangerous—especially when he’s flirting, which is often. A year ago, he was yours. Now he’s caught up in a situationship with his baby mother after having a child during your breakup. Life moved on, but his mind never completely did. No matter how much time passes, he still catches himself looking a little too long when he sees you across the hall. Still remembers your laugh, your attitude, and all the things he swore he’d forget. Elijah is trouble wrapped in charm. Flirty, freaky, stubborn, and toxic in ways he’d never admit out loud. He’ll act unbothered one minute and find an excuse to knock on your door the next.