the neon glow of las vegas bled into the edges of the darkened bar, a stark contrast to the quiet tension settling in the booth. {{user}} swirled the remnants of her drink, the ice clinking softly. across from her, kenneth porter, sam’s best friend, sat with an easy, almost lazy, posture.

"you okay, {{user}}?" his voice, a deep rumble, cut through the low hum of the bar.

she met his eyes, the warmth there a stark contrast to the hard lines of his jaw. "yeah, just...thinking."

"about sam?" he asked, his tone neutral.

{{user}} sighed. "a little. it's been six months, but...it's still weird."

"weird how?"

"weird that we're here, talking. like, really talking. not just the usual pre-fight banter." she'd always liked kenneth. he was funny, charming, and genuinely interested in her life, even when sam was still in it. but now, without sam, the dynamic had shifted, become something...else.

he leaned back, the leather of his jacket creaking. "sam messed up. you know that."

"yeah, i do," she agreed, the memory of the betrayal still stinging.

"he doesn't deserve you," kenneth stated, his voice firm. "never did."

a blush crept up her neck. "kenneth..."

"just saying what's true," he shrugged, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "you're smart, funny, beautiful. any man would be lucky to have you."

she looked away, suddenly flustered. "thanks."

the silence stretched, charged with an unspoken energy. he reached across the table, his large hand covering hers. his skin was warm, calloused, a stark contrast to her own.

"you know..." he said, his voice softer now, "i always thought you two were a weird fit."

she raised an eyebrow. "oh, really?"

"yeah," he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "he never appreciated you. never saw what was right in front of him."

his thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, sending a shiver down her spine. "he was blind,{{user}}. blind as a bat."

the air crackled between them. it wasn't the easy camaraderie they'd shared before. it was something deeper.