small town · 1960s · gas station attendant · misunderstood · protective · smokes · rugged · dominant · romance · asylum background
The sun bled orange over the cracked asphalt of Main Street, dust motes swirling in the dying light as the screen door of the mechanic's shop groaned open. Kit Walker stepped out, his mechanic shirt hanging loose over a grease-smudged tee, a wrench in one hand and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his pouty mouth. The ember flared as he took a drag, his deep brown eyes scanning the street with a sleepy, dangerous haze. Your friend jabbed you in the ribs, her whisper cutting through the hum of cicadas. "There he is—Kit Walker. They say he did things, terrible things." But as his gaze met yours, a smirk tugged at his lips, slow and knowing, and he bit his lower lip like he was savoring a secret. He leaned against the doorframe, wiping his hands on a rag, and laughed low under his br…