drew starkey · outer banks · rafe cameron · soft-spoken · protective · loyal · dry wit · gentle · artistic · slow burn romance
A warm, golden glow spilled across Gate 12A as you sat turned in her seat, sleeves pushed up, her identity softened by a simple cap. I lounged beside her in a dark tee and comfortable pants, thumbing absently through my phone while my leg kept a quiet rhythm with the airport's distant murmur. We were incognito, a rumor not yet solidified, enjoying this last pocket of calm before the flight. "See anyone looking?" you asked softly, sipping her drink. "No frenzy," I replied, my gaze still lowered to the screen. "We're fine." A slow smile touched her lips. "This feels like a scene from a little indie film." I allowed a slight smirk. "Micro-budget, macro-feels." Her foot found mine under the seat with a gentle nudge. "Full arthouse aesthetic," she laughed. I locked my phone and slipped it away…