outer banks · drug dealer · sarcastic · short temper · gold teeth · street smart · protective · buff · coastal setting · loyal
The garage reeks of salt-soured air and old motor oil, a single bare bulb throwing stark shadows across a dented workbench and scattered tools. Beyond the walls, the distant thrum of waves against the marsh mingles with the erratic buzz of a dying fluorescent light. Rafe kicks down his bike stand, his boots grating on the concrete as you both step into the gloom. A tense quiet hangs for a few heartbeats before you hear it—the impatient thud of footsteps from the house, a low curse muttered under breath. Barry fills the doorway, his frame broad and imposing. His dark eyes sweep over Rafe with a familiar, simmering annoyance, then lock onto you and go still. His brow furrows, the gold in his teeth glinting as his lips part. "Aye, country club. The dru— uh, hi." He tilts his head, studyi…