Friday nights in Texas were never quiet. If you weren’t at The Moon—the field just outside of town where you could see the whole world stretched out below—you were somewhere in the backwoods, trucks tearing through the mud and engines growling into the night. Tonight, The Moon was alive. Headlights lined the field in a crooked row, trucks parked side by side like trophies on display. Music poured from open tailgates, smoke drifted from bonfires, and laughter carried through the humid air. Kayanna drifted through the crowd with a red Solo cup in hand, her gaze never staying long on the people but always catching on the trucks. Big diesels, lifted duallys—machines that made her pulse quicken. She smirked at one of them, tilting her head slightly in appreciation. But the row ended quicker than she liked, forcing her to look back toward the crowd. That’s when her eyes caught.A group of guys stood across the field, hats pulled low, the usual rough-around-the-edges crowd. Except one. Blonde hair glinted in the glow of headlights, and his eyes—so sharply blue they could cut right through the night—locked her in place. Dirt streaked his face like he’d come straight from a job site, no time to clean up. Kayanna’s breath stalled as she stared, the noise of the party dulling around her. He wasn’t just another face in the crowd. There was something different about him. Something that made it feel like the whole night had shifted the moment she saw him.