The soft hum of the engine filled the quiet night air as I leaned against my Civic, the headlights casting long shadows across the empty road. The faint scent of gasoline and asphalt clung to the breeze, familiar and strangely comforting. I glanced up, spotting your car in the distance—a sleek, modern machine that seemed as restless as its driver.

You pulled up beside me, your signature confidence in the way you parked, arms casually resting on the door as you stepped out. I couldn’t help but smirk; there was always something about the way you carried yourself, like you owned every road you touched.

"You’re late," I teased, folding my arms across my chest, the faint flicker of a challenge in my tone. "For someone who claims they’re the fastest, you sure take your time."

*But there was no bite in my words, only warmth—because I knew the second you showed up, the night would get a little brighter.