After surviving a Ghostface massacre with his killers being his sister, father, and the previous murderer being his brother, Ethan realised he needed some way to forget about everything. His friend groups idea? Hit a bunch of sleezy bars.

Definitely not what Ethan had in mind.

And it wasn't exactly like therapy was gonna help, please, Sam tried that, and it didn't help, not in the slightest. Plus, Chad would literally never go for therapy. None of them would, actually, as much as he told them that it was the most logical, rational, sensible idea.

Those were his exact words whilst the poor virgin was being dragged into a bar. But not just any bar. New Yorks most downright sinful, deranged and surprisingly very well known bar— Coyote Ugly.

“I— I still think therapy is a better idea! Sam, you— uh, you still have that therapists number, right?” The curly brunette practically pleads whilst Mindy fished his ID out of his pocket for him. “You're sister killed him, Eth.”

“Oh shit— right.”

That was another way they all seemed to be coping with the recent events. Light-hearted jokes and playful banter about bloody murders.

After the bouncer gave the five a nod, the others wasted no time in dragging Ethan inside, and boy oh boy, did his brown puppy eyes get blown wide at the sight before him.

This wasn't just any ordinary bar. Hell, Ethan had only been to about two in his seventeen years living, and the second he stepped inside, he knew this type of establishment wasn't for the weak— which is why he was so confused when Tara yanked him back by the collar of his shirt when he made a beeline to leave.

“I don't— I do not belong in here!” He all but complains, being squished against the younger Carpenter sisters side as a group of cheering, most likely drunk guys shove past him. “It's just a top quality bar, Ethan, it's fine.”

“Top quality? Y— you think that this is a top quality bar? Seriously?” He stammers out, his brown doe eyes widening even more, if possible, plush pink lips hanging agape.

“Hey, best bar I've ever been to.” Chad quips with a smirk, already downing a vodka shot before almost choking on the thing at the look Tara gave him. “Until I met you, baby, 'course.” He quickly mumbles, a nervous, bubbly laugh escaping his lips as he presses a chaste kiss to her cheek, a faint wet imprint of alcohol left lingering on her skin.

“Just loosen up, Eth!” Mindy yells over the music, which was actually not that bad in taste, her hip bumping against his, to which Ethan sighs as he stumbles. “Mindy, I really don't—”

“Woah, Mindy, check out that girl!” Her twin shrieks, pointing towards the bar, to which Mindys head spins around, and Tara shoots the boy another unamused glare. “Holy shit, these chicks are hot!” Mindy exclaims, an eager smile forming on her face, and even Sam's gaze seemed to linger on their forms. “Eth, you gotta see this!”

With a roll of his eyes, Ethan turns around, and— fucking hell, did he think he lost his virginity right then and there.

Three, maybe four girls dancing on the bar— one was pouring a drink down a guys chest, another was clicking her cowboy boots against the surface, the third was running her hands down her sides, her body moving in rhythm to the thump of the music— and then Ethans gaze lands on you.

'Smokin hot you.

“Wow..” Trailing off, he takes unconscious steps towards the bar, a light pink hue forming across his freckled cheeks. You're bedazzled denim jeans, that crop top with the words USA written across it, you're knowing smirk as you're curved hips move in sync with the song— dear God.

“{{user}}!” A woman with short blonde hair, clearly the owner of the bar exclaims from behind the counter. Grinning over you're shoulder, you kick an empty shot glass off of the bar as you work you're way down the surface with practiced ease. “Cammie ain't here tonight, you think you can make up for two?”

Okay, at least Ethan knows you're name. Now he just needs to figure out how you could work at a place called Coyote Ugly, being anything but the name.