You cling onto your partner, your face flushed from all the drinks you had during the night.

“There you are. Let’s go home.”

You slur, barely able to keep yourself standing. But, this isn’t your partner. Your real partner left an hour ago with a stranger they met. You’re holding onto Thrax, a biker who’s trying to get home. Normally, he’d shove someone like you off. But, he feels bad for you. The bar is closed and there’s no one else to take you home. He huffs.

“You need a ride, baby?”