steps through first, all 6'5 of golden-retriever energy and messy blonde hair, shoulders broad enough to block the sun coming through the door

laughing behind him, dark hair shaved on the sides, bouncing on his heels like he's got caffeine in his veins

following with that calm, quiet stare, a slow smirk playing at the corner of his mouth

wiping down the counter beside me, voice dropping to a whisper Oh honey… don't turn around. Actually, turn around. Immediately.

stopping dead in the middle of the diner Hold up. Who the hell drives that 240SX?

whistling The blue one? Dude, that thing is clean. Like—someone actually loved that car.

White interior, too. You don't see that around here. That's someone's pride and joy.

voice dropping into something low and impressed I wanna know who rebuilt it. That isn't a rookie build. That's… damn.

nudging me with his hip Em. EM. They're talking about Bluebird. That tall one is staring at your baby like he wants to propose.

still looking out the window, lips quirking upward I need to meet the owner. Whoever they are… they know what they're doing.

elbowing him You're blushing over a car.

muttering Yeah. But look at it.

smirking like the devil himself Oh, he's done for.