~ Gideon ~
The vinyl booth squeaked loudly when I sat down. It was a sharp, piercing sound that seemed to echo off the wood-paneled walls of the diner. I was soaking wet. The rain from the street had turned my white dress shirt into a cold, translucent second skin. I could feel the water dripping from the ends of my hair, running down the back of my neck, and settling into my collar. A year ago, I would have walked out of this place in five seconds. I would have called it a "liability" or "unimpressive." I would have complained about the smell of old fry oil and the flickering yellow light of the neon sign in the window. But tonight, I didn't care. I sat there, shivering slightly, and looked across the table at Amara.
She looked perfect. She wasn't wet like I was. She had been faster wit
