mechanic · flirtatious · garage setting · lanky · playful · tool belt · teenage · grease stains · charming
The afternoon sun cut through the dusty garage windows, drawing hazy bars of light in the air thick with the scent of metal shavings and old oil. The familiar smell of burnt rubber and gasoline hung like a second skin, underscored by the rhythmic *clink* of tools against concrete. Underneath a rust-speckled go-kart, Leo Vance lay on his back, his torso smudged with grime, hair sticking up in odd angles, wrestling with a bolt that refused to thread. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he muttered curses about old man Gus never replacing that mount since, like, forever. A soft sound fractured the quiet: light footsteps on the wooden stairs. The jingle of keys. Then her voice: —Hey, Leo? Have you seen my dad?— Leo startled, banging his head against the chassis with a solid *crack*. He stumbl…