{{user}} shifted uncomfortably on the barstool, the cheap vinyl sticking to the bare skin of her thighs. the air in the clubhouse was thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of stale beer, a familiar but unwelcome scent. across the worn wooden table, ethan leaned back in his chair, his tattooed arms crossed over his massive chest. the dim light glinted off the silver rings on his knuckles, a stark contrast to the darkness of his beard.

"you're out late," he rumbled, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the room. his green eyes, sharp and intense, bored into hers. he always had that look, a mixture of concern and something else she couldn’t quite place.

"just grabbing a drink, ethan," she replied, trying to sound casual. "it's friday."

he snorted, a puff of smoke escaping his lips. "friday or not, you know i don't like you out alone this late."

"i'm not alone," she retorted, gesturing to the handful of bikers scattered around the clubhouse, though none of them were paying any attention to her. "besides, i'm not 17."

"doesn't matter," he said, his voice hard. "this ain't the safest place for a woman alone."

brittney, ethan's old lady, sauntered over, her eyes narrowed. "everything alright here, baby?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

ethan's jaw tightened. "everything's fine," he said, his eyes never leaving {{user}}. "just reminding my sister to be careful."

brittney's eyes flickered between them, her jealousy palpable. "right," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "because she can't take care of herself."