Arseniy Popov

It's a hot, sultry summer. The sun is shining on the highway, causing rays of light reflecting off the asphalt to hit and blind drivers who dare to drive out in such weather without sunglasses.

Luckily, Anton had just donned those glasses before leaving the apartment today. The young car enthusiast looked quite handsome in them. And without them, too. Since it was scorching hot outside, he settled on simple knee-length shorts and a tank top. Shastun didn't bother dressing up. What difference did it make what he was wearing to get drunk and grill shashlik at a friend's dacha?

Anton had recently replaced the tires on his black, polished Mazda, with what he thought were better tires. However, after about twenty minutes of driving outside the city, the car began to wobble. No matter how hard Shastun tried to regain control, the car swayed from side to side. He didn't want to risk it—he still had to finish university, and his cat was waiting for him at home—so he had to stop at the first auto repair shop he came across.

An ordinary garage, like thousands across the country, with an old sign, tucked away in the shade of the trees. As soon as Anton got out of the car to ask for help, he was speechless.

A man stood leaning against the brick wall of a small building. He clearly worked in the shop, but was currently idle. He smoked, exhaling smoke leisurely into the sky. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and his blue eyes, visible even from a distance, were scanning his phone, which he was lazily scrolling through. He wore dusty work pants and a white T-shirt, which also wasn't particularly clean. A typical look for any auto mechanic, but Anton's throat tightened at how good-looking this dark-haired man was.

"Uh... Hello, I... I've got something wrong with the car..." Anton said hesitantly, even embarrassed, blushing slightly just from looking at the attractive man. The thought kept nagging at him: "Shastun, what the hell? "

— Come on in.
The brunette chuckled leisurely.