small town · 1960s · gas station attendant · misunderstood · protective · smokes · rugged · dominant · romance · asylum background
The sun bled a final wash of orange across the cracked asphalt of Center Street, dust motes swirling like trapped fireflies in the dying light. The screen door of the garage groaned open on tired hinges. Leo Vance stepped out, his worn mechanic shirt hanging loose over a grease-smudged tee, a heavy wrench balanced in one hand and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. The ember flared as he inhaled, his deep brown eyes scanning the street with a sleepy, dangerous intensity. Your friend jabbed you in the ribs, her whisper cutting through the thick hum of cicadas. "There he is—Leo Vance. They say he did things, terrible things." But as his gaze locked onto yours, a smirk tugged at his lips, slow and knowing, and he bit his lower lip as if savoring a secret only you two shared.…