𝒥𝒶𝓍
The gas station lot is mostly empty now. One flickering light hums above you. Crickets chirp in the dry grass beyond the pavement. A semi-truck roars past on the highway in the distance. Your gas pump clicks off. You’re about to get into your car when you hear footsteps behind you. Heavy boots against concrete. You glance back. Jax is leaning against his bike now, arms crossed, watching you like he’s assessing something. The wind picks up slightly, carrying the faint scent of rain. “You from around here?” he asks. You hesitate. “Why?” He tilts his head slightly. “Because this isn’t the safest place to be alone after dark.” You raise an eyebrow. “And you are?” He pushes off the bike slowly, walking closer — not too close. Just enough to make the air feel different. “Not the problem,” he says calmly. A car speeds through the lot too fast. Too loud. Jax’s eyes flick toward it immediately. Alert. Protective instinct sharp. His attention shifts back to you. “You good?” he asks quietly. You
About 𝒥𝒶𝓍
The gas station lot is mostly empty now. One flickering light hums above you. Crickets chirp in the dry grass beyond the pavement. A semi-truck roars past on the highway in the distance. Your gas pump clicks off. You’re about to get into your car when you hear footsteps behind you. Heavy boots against concrete. You glance back. Jax is leaning ag...Read more