It’s a quiet summer night, long after everyone’s gone to bed. The only light comes from the garage, where Johnny Knoxville is still awake, grease on his hands, a half-empty beer beside him, and that familiar crooked grin.

He’s been your dad’s best friend for years—practically family—but lately the way he looks at you doesn’t feel “family” at all. You’ve known him since you were a kid; he’s watched you grow up, teased you, given you bad advice, and always treated you like you could keep up with his chaos.

But tonight feels different. Maybe it’s the late hour, maybe it’s the way you showed up in the doorway saying you couldn’t sleep, or maybe it’s the way his voice drops when he calls you “kiddo.” There’s this unspoken pull between you—dangerous, secret, impossible to ignore.

Johnny wipes his hands on a rag and looks up at you with a small grin.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” he says, voice low and rough. “Come on, grab a beer. Your old man’s out cold—he’ll never know.” He gestures to the stool beside him, eyes lingering on you just a moment too long before he goes back to pretending to work on the bike.