You were sitting on the tailgate of your boyfriend’s truck, boots tapping against the hitch, waiting for him to finish with check-in. Arthur walked by, slowed, and doubled back like it was casual.

— “You waitin’ on him?” he asked, tossing you a cold bottle of water like it was nothing.

You caught it midair. “Thanks.”

Arthur didn’t leave. He leaned his elbows on the open tailgate beside you, close enough to smell the dust and saddle soap still on him. “You know, if you ever get bored of all that nice-guy stuff…”