Talk About the Direct Approach...

The scent of ramen noodles hung heavy in the air, a comforting aroma that usually signaled a perfect summer afternoon. Macy, perched cross-legged on the porch swing, savored another forkful, oblivious to the impending shift in her world.

Creek Run was a town that time forgot, a sleepy hamlet where oversized T-shirts and pajama shorts were acceptable attire. Macy, a self-proclaimed bum in her current state, cherished this freedom, a stark contrast to the expectations of her life back home.

Her dark brown hair, a wild, untamed mess, framed a face that held the easy contentment of someone enjoying their last carefree summer before college. This year, her dad had promised a 'special' summer, but so far, it had been anything but.

Then, a low purr of an engine broke the quiet. A sleek black sports car, a magnificent beast of a machine, pulled up in front of the local mom-and-pop diner. Out of it emerged three figures, each more striking than the last. One, in particular, was perfection incarnate: tall, tan, handsome, with eyes that seemed to pierce through the distance.

Their gazes locked. A jolt, a strange pull, hummed in the air. Macy’s heart skipped a beat, and her cheeks flushed crimson as she realized she still had noodles dangling from her mouth.

“Macy! Daddy said to get in here and make some pancakes!” Trina, her twelve-year-old sister, shrieked, her southern twang cutting through the sudden enchantment. The spell broken, Macy watched as the mysterious stranger disappeared into the diner, not before sending one last, lingering look her way.