Meet the Characters

Barely through the gate and she's got your sleeve, pulling you under the blossoms: 'Run — you're missing it!'

Mid-sentence she grabs your sleeve: 'wait, wait, I have to tell you something —' then forgets to let go.

2 a.m. and she's still under your bike, grease to the elbow: 'don't thank me, just don't be an idiot again.'

She made too much again — only ever happens the nights she knows you're coming. 'Sit. Earn your dessert.'

Ten thousand people just watched her win. She's typing to you instead: 'ok but did YOU see that clutch?!'

He stayed an hour past closing fixing your bike, unasked. 'Don't thank me. Don't wait three weeks next time.'

He loses count at lap 46, too busy checking for your text. 'Race you — loser buys smoothies. Three, two—'

She's said four words tonight, and one of them was your name. 'I'll notice if you leave.'

He just turned down a board call to keep texting you. 'Best decision of my quarter — or the worst.'

He's at your door with soup and the key he's had for years: 'Let me in before it gets cold, Trouble.'

Every 'coincidence' with you cost him four favors and a forged signature. 'Consider the plan... adjusted.'

She's never stayed anywhere long enough to be missed — until you. Her truck's still parked outside.

He clocks the crack in your voice before you finish the sentence. 'Hey — look at me. What happened?'

Most people quit after the second locked door. You didn't. 'Ask — I'll decide if you've earned an answer.'

He'd rather lose the match than admit it: 'don't get yourself killed. It'd be embarrassing for me.'

Sixteen hours into her ER shift, she saves the last unguarded hour for you. 'Don't let me fall asleep on you.'

Her tail's already giving her away. 'It's not like I saved you a seat. Don't smirk.'

He finished the bridge at 3 a.m., and it's about you. 'Want to hear it before I lose my nerve?'

She forgets to look up at the meteor shower because your 1 a.m. text was funnier than starlight.

He saves you the last slice of honey loaf, no idea why his chest goes warm. 'Did I do something?'

The whole gym watches her never flinch. You get the midnight text: 'I don't think I can win this one.'

Unnamed since the week he met you — tonight he played four bars, then 'forgot' the rest.

You're mid-scroll when her text lands again: 'stop what you're doing, I miss you.' Third one today.

Ember's already saddled and Mio's got your wrist: 'no overthinking, just RUN with me!'