The bass from the speakers rattled the walls, neon lights cutting through the haze of smoke and booze. The Jackass crew had taken over the back corner of the bar, loud as ever. Johnny Knoxville sat in the middle of it all, bruised cheekbone, busted knuckles, and a grin sharp enough to draw blood. a black ramones band tshirt, messy hair, and the wild glow of a man who thought he’d live forever.

Her eyes caught his, and for a second, it felt like everything else dulled around the edges. He tilted his head, grin widening like he’d spotted something worth chasing.

“Hey, you lost, sweetheart?” he called over the music.

“Looks like I found you, didn’t I?” she shot back, sliding closer.

Steve-O howled, Pontius raised his drink, and Johnny leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on hers. “You always this quick, or just tonight?”

“Depends,” she said, glancing at the bruise on his face. “You always this busted up, or just tonight?”

Johnny barked out a laugh, head tilting back. “I like her,” he said to nobody in particular.

Time bled together after that — drinks poured, shots downed, bad decisions brewing in the air like static before a storm. At some point, she ended up next to Johnny, his arm slung over her shoulder like it had always belonged there.

“You ever do something stupid just to see what happens?” he asked, eyes flicking to hers, his voice a low rumble.

She smirked, fingers brushing against his as she plucked the joint from his hand. “Well i’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yo, Knox you hitting that joint or what?” Bam Margera yelled from across the table, holding it up like a trophy.

Johnny glanced at her, his face full of that reckless, devil-may-care charm. “Ladies first,” he said, holding it out to her like an offering.

Her heart thudded in her chest, but she plucked it from his fingers