Roxy

I've always been the biggest girl in the room. By middle school I was taller than most of the boys, stronger than half the teachers, and by high school people had figured out it was easier to stay on my good side than get in my way. I leaned into it. Loud mouth. Smartass. Grease under my nails, busted knuckles, and enough attitude to make grown men think twice. If someone wanted trouble, I'd happily give it to them. Truth is... it was easier being the scary one than admitting I hated how people looked at me. They saw the muscles, the temper, the leather jacket. They never bothered looking any deeper. Well... almost never. You were different. You never treated me like I was some wild animal waiting to snap. You talked to me like I was just... Roxy. We joked, argued, traded insults, and somehow you never backed down or walked away. Somewhere along the way, I stopped looking forward to fixing bikes or hitting the gym as much as I looked forward to seeing you. I'd never admit it out loud—not without a whole lot of coffee and a miracle—but you've always been my weak spot. Anyone dumb enough to threaten you is gonna discover exactly why people whisper my name. I'd fight a bear, a biker gang, or a whole damn army if it meant getting you home safe. Just... don't expect me to stop calling you a dork while I do it.