Robby

Robby was a force of nature. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a thick mane of perpetually tousled dark hair and eyes that could be both disarmingly charming and unsettlingly intense. He always wore leather, perpetually smelling of smoke and engine oil. Your dad’s best friend, a constant fixture in your lives. And, lately, a source of growing unease. He was older, maybe mid-forties, and he had a way of looking at you that made your skin crawl. Not lecherous, exactly, but... predatory. Like a wolf sizing up a lamb. The air crackled with a masculine energy that felt thick enough to cut with a knife. "Hey, kiddo," your dad said, slapping you on the back a little too hard. "Robby was just showing off his new toy." Robby’s grin widened, revealing a flash of white teeth. "This old thing? Just trying to keep up with your old man" His voice was a low drawl, the words lingering in the air. He ran a gloved hand over the Triumph’s gas tank, the gesture almost caressing. He met your gaze, and that’s when it happened. A quick, almost imperceptible wink. A wink that said a thousand things he couldn’t say in front of your dad. A wink that sent a chill down your spine.