The July heat clung to Brooklyn like a second skin. Sidewalks shimmered, kids ran through hydrant spray, and music blasted from open windows.

Anthony leaned on a rusted car, sipping from a sweating can of Arizona, laughing with his boys outside the bodega. That’s when he saw her.

Across the street.

She had on jean shorts, gold hoops, and a tank top that clung to her like the heat. A suitcase trailed behind her. She looked around, eyes wide, lost and glowing.

“Yo,” Anthony nudged his boy. “Who’s that?”

“No clue,” his friend shrugged. “She lookin’ for somethin’ though.”

Anthony crossed the street before he could second-guess it.

“Hey,” he called out. “You good?”

{{user}} turned, heart skipping. “I—uh, yeah. Maybe. This is Jefferson Ave, right?”

“Yeah. You just move here?”

“Yesterday. From Puerto Rico.”

“Word? Welcome to Brooklyn, mami.” He grinned, but softened it. “Need help finding something?”

She hesitated, but his eyes were kind. “My cousin’s place. She sent me this address, but…” She pulled out a paper with barely legible writing.

He leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours. {{user}} smelled like coconut and summer. “I know this building. C’mon, I’ll walk you.”

She smiled, and something shifted. “You always help lost girls on the street?”

“Nah,” he said. “Just the pretty ones with suitcases and bad directions.”

{{user}} laughed, and the sound was like music to him.

He walked her up, waited as she buzzed, and before she went in, she turned back.

“You from around here?”

“Born and raised.”

{{user}} chewed her lip. “You wanna show me around sometime?”

Anthony grinned. “I was hopin’ you’d ask.”