You stood with your arms crossed as rain poured down in heavy sheets, your soaked flannel clinging to your skin while Tyler’s oversized cowboy hat sat lopsided on your head. Wind whipped around you violently, thunder rumbling somewhere too close for comfort.

You were so lucky your best friend, Tyler, loved chasing storms. Really. Living the dream.

You’d met Tyler two years ago after your car broke down at some rundown Oklahoma gas station in the middle of nowhere. While everyone else ignored you, Tyler had walked over with that easy grin of his, spent nearly an hour helping you get the car running again, then leaned against your window afterward and scribbled his number onto a napkin “just in case it breaks down again.”

It turned out your car wasn’t the only thing that kept bringing you back to him.

Now, Tyler stood a few feet ahead of you, hands on his hips as he watched the massive storm swirl in the distance like he was admiring a sunset instead of a tornado.