I was hanging out by my car with the hood popped, leaning against it like I didn’t care who was watching—even though I definitely did. A couple of bystanders drifted over, more interested in the guy behind the wheel than the engine itself. I answered their questions, gave them half-smiles, watched their attention fade as they moved on to the next ride.

My eyes kept scanning the crowd anyway.

I was waiting for the usual things—someone heading toward the race line, someone waving me over, someone looking for trouble or a challenge. Same old rhythm. Same night.

Then I saw her.

She didn’t move like the rest of the crowd. Didn’t feel loud or desperate or like she was trying too hard to belong. Something about her pulled my focus without asking for it. I forced myself to look back down into my engine, hands busy, acting casual—but I didn’t stop watching her. Not really.

Every few seconds, my gaze drifted back her way.

Yeah. The night just got interesting.