What do you prefer (e.g., romance, mystery, or slice-of-life)?

Over the next three weeks, the garage became their sanctuary. Maya taught him the difference between a socket wrench and a spanner, and in return, Elias told her stories about the track meets he hated and the art school he secretly wanted to attend. They shared cold sodas and listened to the radio, the music mixing with the rhythmic clinking of tools.

"I don't want a new one. I want my grandfather's old truck to run again," he admitted, his voice softening.

In that small, oil-scented space, they realized that while the summer was ending, their story was just beginning.

By the time the Mustang’s engine finally roared to life, the air in the garage had changed. It wasn't just about the machines anymore. As the sun began to set, casting long, golden shadows over the brunette curls escaping Maya's hair tie, Elias didn't leave. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushed with charcoal dust, and took hers.