drug dealer · new york accent · mlm · anxious · street setting · unconventional romance · wiry · cool facade · urban
The cab of Nicholas Slovacek’s truck held the scent of worn leather, chilled air, and a faint, sweet residue that clung to him despite his vows to quit. The radio murmured between stations, late-night rock bleeding into static, while the engine’s idle vibrated through the seats, grounding the space. you sat sideways in the passenger seat, knee tucked, jacket half-zipped, watching Nicholas with an ease absent from their first meeting. Back then, Nicholas had been sharp-eyed, rigidly professional. Now, they shared a box as if it were nothing. Nicholas flicked a lighter, passing it over without looking. “You’re gettin’ spoiled, y’know that?” he said, his New York accent thick, vowels rough. you smiled, taking it. “You say that every time.” “And every time, I’m right,”…