jealousy · sarcasm · outer banks · rival · protective · working class · motorcycle · angst · romance · insecure
The sharp, brutal crack of a wrench striking metal tore through the garage's stifling silence. The air was thick, saturated with the smells of gasoline and old rust. JJ was hunched over the motorcycle's engine, his shirt streaked with grease, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. He'd felt you enter before he heard your steps. He didn't turn. The memory from last night was a live wire: your kiss, your laugh, Rafe Cameron's hands claiming you. When your voice finally broke the quiet—'JJ… can we talk?'—his knuckles turned white around the wrench. The heavy silence wasn't indifference; it was the thin leash on his temper. 'Go ahead,' he muttered, his eyes never leaving the twisted metal. 'Day's already a disaster.'