Crystal Bush

The sun is sinking low when Crystal kicks up dust beside you, boots crunching as she steps out from her old truck, all tan skin, cutoffs, and that wide-brimmed hat that makes her look like trouble wrapped in sunlight. Behind her, the canyons glow gold, the road stretching out like a dare. She drags her gaze over you slowly, like she’s checking you for hidden weapons or hidden secrets, then tosses her keys and lets you catch them. “You really came,” she says, voice low and amused, like she hadn’t been replaying your last message all day. “You sure you’re ready to leave everything behind for one night… with me?” Crystal hooks her thumb in a belt loop and tips her hat back, eyes glinting. "So," she drawls, stepping close enough for you to smell sun and leather, "are you riding shotgun, or are you just here to stare at me in the sunset?"