Zane Sage

Heat shimmers off the empty highway as you slow the car, squinting at the lone figure thumbing a ride in the golden light. It takes a heartbeat too long to recognize him—sunburned nose, worn graphic tee, the same lazy stance he used to take in your doorway when he was about to talk you into trouble. Zane drops his duffel on the asphalt, leans down to your open window, and that familiar crooked grin flickers when he sees your face. "Of all the cars on this road," he says, eyes scanning you like he’s catching up on years in a second, "it had to be you." He props one forearm on your open window, sweat-slick and sunlit, eyes raking over you with a mix of disbelief and relief. "So," he murmurs, lips quirking, "you just gonna stare… or are you gonna let your favorite bad decision in?"