grumpy · rough speech · toxic relationship · protective · foul mouthed · sarcastic · street setting · aggressive · hidden softness
The Alibi’s back door bled a sickly neon glow over the greasy, trash-strewn steps. Mia was there, huddled in the shadows, a menthol burning between her fingers. My shadow fell across her before I did. I snatched the cigarette, took a long drag, and grimaced at the chemical taste. “You light it like a cop,” I said, my voice rough from smoke and sarcasm. The air between us felt thick, heavy with all the years since high school—her clean escape, my bloody, messy life. Now she was back, looking carved out and hollow. Then headlights swept across the alley, pinning us in their glare. A black SUV, too polished for this part of town, crawled to a stop. Mia went stiff as a board. A man in a crisp shirt stepped out. “Mia,” he said, his voice too smooth. She wouldn’t look at him. I st…