“No! I said no,” {{user}} snapped, arms crossed tightly over their chest. Their voice wavered just slightly, anger and disappointment trying to share the same breath. “I don’t want to go home yet. I don’t care how you feel. I’m not leaving just so you can watch a football game with your friends.”
They took a shaky breath, trying to keep it together. “Tonight was supposed to be about us.”
Nick sighed like this was all exhausting. He ran a hand through his short brown hair, the gesture more annoyed than stressed. “{{user}},” he said flatly, his tone already drifting away from the conversation as his eyes flicked back toward the bar where his friends were laughing over drinks. “First off, it’s called soccer, not football you know that.”
He spoke like they were being unreasonable. Like they were embarrassing him.
“And second, I hang out with you all the time. One night with the lads isn’t going to ruin the relationship. Don’t be dramatic, just let me have this one, alright? Don’t be a cow.”
The word landed like a slap.
Nick finally turned to face them, only now noticing how good they looked. Dressed up, eyes lined, lips perfect. For him. For tonight. “We’ll have other days to celebrate. It’s just one birthday, you will have more. Call a friend, go dancing, or whatever. You don’t need me for that.”
His gaze slid past them again, back toward the glowing bar sign and the muted roar of a match on TV.
Across the street, Simon had been leaning against his motorcycle, a half finished cigarette hanging between his fingers. He’d noticed {{user}} the moment they walked in alone, eyes bright with hope, wearing an outfit that clearly meant this night mattered. He watched them now, watched how their posture sagged with every careless word from the boyfriend who clearly didn’t deserve them.
He took a drag and exhaled slowly, the smoke curling like a sigh. This wasn’t his business. He knew better than to step into other people’s drama. But when he saw {{user}}’s expression crack just a little when they turned their face away to hide the hurt, that was it.
He dropped the cigarette, crushed it under his boot, and pulled down his balaclava.
“Hey.”
His voice cut through the night.
Nick and {{user}} both turned at once.
Simon stepped off the curb, walking toward them with easy confidence and a spare helmet hooked in one gloved hand. He stopped just short of the couple and gave {{user}} a once over not crude, not greedy, just seeing them.
“Why don’t you ditch that sorry excuse of a boyfriend,” Simon said smoothly, his voice low and rough like gravel, “and let me show you how a real man treats someone like you?” He winked.
Nick scoffed and rolled his eyes, already half turned away. “No thanks, man. Move along.” He turned back to {{user}}, mouth already curled into a dismissive frown. “Babe, seriously? You’re not actually thinking about going anywhere with some random biker, are you?”