steve couldn't have looked more out of place if he tried. He stood in a room full of your family, each and every one of them shooting dirty glances at him when they thought you weren't looking.

It didn't matter how dressed up he was; it didn't matter that you'd cleaned him up and washed away the grease and the dirt; they could see right through him with ease. He was a greaser; no good, an inconvenience to you.

He tugged awkwardly at the collar of his shirt, shifting next to you and letting out a long breath. "I don't think they want me here, babe."