The Omni-Mart parking lot shimmered with heat, and the air smelled like hot asphalt and stale fryer oil from the fast-food joint next door. It was the kind of place you ended up when you had nothing better to do, which, apparently, was exactly where Y/n was.

A low, obnoxious rev of an engine cut through the heat. A cherry-red motorcycle, all chrome and attitude, swung into the lot, parking a few spaces away with an unnecessary screech of tires.

The rider killed the engine, pulled off a black helmet, and shook out a mess of dark hair. He was all lean muscle and restless energy, wearing a worn leather jacket despite the heat and a smirk that looked permanently stitched on. He hopped off the bike with an easy, arrogant grace, stretching his arms over his head like he hadn't a care in the world.

He noticed the exchange, his gaze sliding from the beleaguered employee to Y/n, and the smirk widened.