Bar Red's Redemption (Edited)

13: Butterflies and Apologies

"A monster that refused, sometimes, to behave like a monster. When a monster stopped behaving like a monster, did it stop being a monster? Did it become something else?"
― Kristin Cashore

Hey guys! There's very little change with this chapter (which, as the story continues, will be the case for a lot of the chapters) but I hope you enjoy! Don't be afraid to comment, it gifts me motivation :D))

Chapter 13:
Butterflies and Apologies

A couple hours later when the sun is starting to dip in the sky, Bar waits in the spot he Clementine to meet him at. He's resting against his car, thankful for the long shower and pain meds he had taken before he arrived.

Due to the injuries, he had opted to wear black sweats instead of jeans, but it was a nice pair—he matched it with a thick dark blue long sleeve, his leather jacket, and had a hint of his favorite cologne rubbed onto his wrists and neck.

Gus, the bastard, had wisely advised him to keep his hair messy instead of trying to tame the curls.

Thankfully, since he spent most of the day icing his aches and keeping up with the pain relievers, the bruises didn't look bad and the swelling was practically nonexistent.

The pain was bearable, even to a point that it wouldn't distract him.

His full backpack was off to the side as he stood in the abandoned-looking parking lot with a thick field of flowers and a forest right next to it, presents inside that he was anxious to hand out.

She'd like them, but—he never went on a date like this before.

He didn't know if it was a proper thing to do, or would be considered weird, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare the little goddess away with bad etiquette.

Before Bar could worry too much, though, and after what felt like hours the roar of an engine could be heard echoing off of the trees around them.

But it wasn't just any engine, it was a motorcycle.

Clementine was riding a motorcycle.

Fuck. That shouldn't be so hot.

She parked it next to where Bar stood and turned it off—and if he had a little less control over himself, he would be drooling as he eyes her curves that were accentuated by her attire.

The little goddess had slim, black leggings on that brought out her wide hips and thick thighs, black combat boots that boosted her a bit higher, a thick knitted pink sweater that hugged her chest and showed off her cute, slightly chubby stomach, and a leather jacket that almost matched Bar's.

She looked beautiful in the sense where she was lethal.

"You have no idea, sweetheart," Bar said as soon as she took off her helmet, "how bad I want to kiss you right now."

"You l-look good too, Oly, even with the bruises," Clementine says, beaming as she gets off of her bike, mint eyes taking him in as she kicks the stand into place.

"Not good enough for you, that's for fucking sure," he replied, biting his lip as he watched her pull her hair out of a ponytail. The little goddess rolled her eyes, not believing him.

Then, she set her helmet on the seat and walked up to Bar, almost timid in pace.

She rides a motorcycle but she's still a shy little thing, he thought, unsure of why he found that so attractive.

"So, what are we d-doing here?" Clementine asked, looking around the semi-dark scenery and the moon that's just starting to peek out behind the clouds.

Night was coming in fast and it was waiting for no one.