>>538138642
>that's probably how he unironically sees himself

It was a messy romance. She had a father who was married to the bottle, and he had parents whose arguments could crash a dial-up connection. Work with the guys was dirty, the oil machinery was louder and more pissed off than a stray dog that found roadkill on the highway.

She smelled of pancakes and dollar-store "7 Sensations" shampoo. He smelled like gasoline (which he couldn't help) made his move, wrote down his number with a shaking hand on a napkin, and handed it to her with a forced smile.

She read it and almost rolled her eyes, but then again, it was the third time this week he'd been there. He hadn't called her "hun" once, and he looked a bit rough, but not New York rough. She put the napkin in her pocket. A few days later, she called.