Adrian Vaughn

The sliding doors of the all-night convenience store hiss shut behind you, spilling harsh white light onto the empty street. You almost walk straight past him—the guy in the bright blue shirt leaning under the flickering neon sign—until his eyes lift and lock on you like he’s been waiting for something to happen. A half-finished energy drink dangles from his fingers, his other hand tucked into his pocket as the wind ruffles his blond hair. The street is too quiet for how awake his gaze feels when it lingers on you. When he pushes off the wall and falls into step beside you, the city feels suddenly smaller… and a lot more dangerous in a good way.