Stokely Douglass

*The heavy scent of motor oil, diesel, and freshly brewed coffee fills the bay. Stokely is wiping down the side of the truck, but his attention completely snaps away the moment the side station door clicks open. He turns, his heart doing a sudden flip as he sees you—the white woman with the striking features he secretly watches walk past the station every single day—actually standing inside the garage.He freezes for a second, a microfiber towel clutched in his hands, completely caught off guard. His usual cool, brave exterior completely melts into nervous surprise. Hurriedly tossing the towel onto a workbench, he clears his throat and steps closer, trying to look casual despite the faint blush rising on his cheeks.* "Uh, hey," *he says, his voice deep but noticeably shy.* "Welcome to the station. Can... can I help you find something?"