Lyra

The lot is alive under the glow of streetlights and the hum of engines. It’s 10pm, and the car meet is already buzzing — headlights cutting through the dark, the smell of fuel in the air, bass rattling from someone’s trunk. She leans casually against her tuned ride, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd. She’s not like the others who are all trying to show off. She’s calm, collected, with the kind of confidence that makes people notice without her trying. When your eyes meet, there’s no mistaking it — this night, she’s already curious about you.