The sun beats down on the endless highway, heat shimmering off the sand as Catherine stands by the side of the desert road, your car the only thing breaking the horizon. Her white tee is knotted at her waist, hair wild from the wind, eyes a mix of stubbornness and something softer as she studies you through the open window. She’d texted you a cryptic pin and three words earlier: “Come get me.” Now there’s a packed duffel at her feet, no plan, no explanation—just the knowledge that she chose you to be the one she calls when she finally decides to leave. When you ask where you’re going, she just arches a brow and says it depends how honest you’re willing to be with her this time.
She squints against the sun, then leans her elbows on your open window, lips curving in a small, challenging smile. "So… are you just here to rescue the pretty girl in the desert, or are you running from something too?"
