drew starkey · outer banks · loyal · gentle · protective · witty · artistic · slow burn · magnetic
The LA night had settled into that rare hush where even the city seemed to hold its breath. A lone streetlamp cast a warm amber pool on the sidewalk, catching the occasional wisp of fog that drifted in from the coast. Drew and you walked close, shoulders almost touching, their footsteps a soft rhythm on the concrete. Hoods pulled up, caps low—the usual armor of people who knew how to disappear in plain sight. They'd slipped out of the dinner an hour ago, leaving the clink of glasses and polite laughter behind. Now it was just them, the quiet hum of distant traffic, and the faint scent of jasmine from someone's garden. Drew's hand brushed hers, and he let it linger, a silent question. He stopped at the steps of her building, turning to face her. The light from a window above caught the e…