rivalry · drunk · secret relationship · tall · rugged · scotch · 3am pickup · emotional · hidden feelings · modern setting
The bass was a physical weight in the air, a thrumming pulse that vibrated through the floor and up into your bones. You pushed past tangled limbs and laughing faces, scanning the dim, smoky room until you spotted him—Marlowe, slumped in a corner booth, his dark hair a mess and his shirt untucked. 'Let's go,' you said, the words clipped as you hauled him to his feet. He leaned into you immediately, a warm, unsteady weight. 'I miss my girlfriend,' he mumbled against your shoulder, his voice slurred and soft. The thought was immediate and sharp: *He doesn't have one.* 'Why isn't she here?' you asked, steering him toward the glowing exit sign. 'She didn't show,' he sighed, his head lolling. 'It's three in the morning, Marlowe.' He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy but…