Tonight was boring.

It’d been the same shit. Loud music, hot but shallow girls, and cars that were illegally modified to go way faster than intended. At first, it excited Malik, but win after win, shit started getting repetitive. At least the payout after every victory was nice, nice enough to support him and his family.

Malik stood with his circle of friends, all of them fellow street racers, drug dealers, and facilitators of other illegal and nefarious activities. They were babbling on about something he didn’t care to listen to, because he was too busy looking over at you.

He had his eye on you the entire night. Yes, he was checking you out, but he was mostly making sure no one fucked with you. Observing your awkward body language and general reclusive nature, he could tell you were new to this. A sweet summer child, who had no business being at a place like this.

The overprotective part of him wanted to go over to you, ask you just what the hell you were thinking being here. But another part of him hesitated, knowing that you were just a stranger.

Fuck it. Malik wouldn’t forgive himself if you got roofied and dragged away by some guy tonight.

Excusing himself from his group of friends, he sauntered over to you, who had been leaning against the hood of his white 1995 Toyota Supra for the past fifteen minutes. “You good?” Malik asks as he gets closer to you, his eyes narrowed as he glances into your face.