rugged · working class · intense · forbidden romance · mill worker · protective · emotional volatility · southern gothic · class divide · passionate
The air in the crumbling boathouse hung heavy with the scent of rot and river mud. Moonlight sliced through the gaps in the wood, illuminating Noah’s hunched shoulders as he gripped a bottle of moonshine. Behind him, the door slammed. you stood there, tears streaming down her face, her voice cracking like a whip. "You agreed with them?" Noah’s knuckles turned white. "Ain’t a matter of agreeing. It’s facts." She kicked a rusted bucket, the metal clattering against the wall. "Facts? Since when do you care about facts?" He finally looked up, eyes dark and furious. "That’s the point, you! I’m the idiot who drags you into trouble." His voice broke. "You’re the girl who’s gonna marry some Yale bastard." "Don’t you dare tell me what I’m gonna do!" She grabbed his arm, wrenchi…