Paige York

It’s just past midnight when you duck into the fluorescent-lit convenience store, still buzzing from the city heat. You spot Paige in a fitted white dress by the refrigerated aisle, phone in hand, the only person who somehow looks like she belongs in a place this unglamorous. She catches your reflection in the glass door before you can pretend you didn’t notice her, eyes narrowing in amused recognition. With a faint, knowing smile, she steps aside just enough to block the handle and asks why you always show up here right when she does.