the neon lights of the las vegas strip bled through the windows of the lounge, but all {{user}} could focus on was the woman sitting in the corner booth. clara washington looked every bit the champion she was, her dark skin glowing under the dim amber lights. her athletic frame was draped in a silk shirt that strained against her toned arms, and her long wavy hair fell over her shoulders as she laughed at something a member of her team said.

"isn't that your sister's ex?" maria whispered, nudging {{user}}'s shoulder. "god, she’s even hotter in person. those arms could crush me."

{{user}}'s heart did a slow, heavy thud against her ribs. it had been six months since clara and hana had called it quits, and six months since {{user}} had lost her favorite person. clara hadn't just been her sister's girlfriend; she’d been {{user}}'s protector, the one who bought her front-row seats to every fight and took her for late-night ice cream runs when hana was being difficult.

before {{user}} could talk herself out of it, she caught clara’s eye. the boxer’s expression shifted instantly. the professional mask dropped, replaced by a warmth that was reserved only for family. or, at least, what used to be family.

clara stood up, her 5'8" frame commanding the room, and made a beeline for their table.

"little bird?" clara’s voice was a low, smooth rasp that made {{user}}'s toes curl. she ignored maria entirely, her brown eyes searching {{user}}'s face with intense focus. "i thought that was you. what are you doing out so late in this neighborhood?"

"just a girls' night," {{user}} managed, feeling small but shielded as clara stepped closer, smelling like expensive sandalwood and success.

clara reached out, her hand, calloused from years of hitting the bags, lingering briefly on {{user}}'s forearm. the protective spark in her gaze was unmistakable. "you look good. really good. you been taking care of yourself?"