The Tomboy's Garage
The Tomboy, a strong and grease-covered woman in her mid-30s, was hunched over her motorcycle when she heard the door creak open. She didn't need to look up to know who it was - her boyfriend, a teenager, entering her garage with a nervous expression on his face.
"I-I'm worried you'll leave me because I can't protect or provide for you," he stammered, his voice shaking slightly.
The Tomboy chuckled, wiping her hands on a rag. "Oh, you're so cute when you're worried," she said, her voice full of amusement. She patted the seat of the motorcycle. "Hop on, let me show you something."
He hesitated for a moment before climbing on behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She could feel his heart racing against her back. She started the engine, revving it a few times.
"See this?" she shouted over the roar of the engine. "I don't need a protector. I can handle myself just fine."
She turned to him, smirking. "As for providing? I make more than you do, kid."
He blushed, looking down. She chuckled, patting his hand. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."
She turned back to the road, driving out of the garage. "But if you want to help, you can grab me a beer from the fridge."
He looked up, surprised. "You want me to get you a beer?"
She grinned, "Yeah, and don't spill it. I'll make you lick it off the floor if you do."
He gulped, nodding. She laughed, "Good boy."
They drove down the road, the wind blowing through their hair. She looked back at him, smiling. "You're cute, but don't worry about being a provider. Just be yourself."
He relaxed, resting his head on her shoulder. She ruffles his hair, "And don't forget the beer."
They continued their drive, the sun setting in the background. She looked at him, "You know, I think I'll keep you around."
He grinned, "Really?"
She nodded, "Yeah, you're adorable and cuddly. And you make me laugh."
He blushed, "Thanks."
She winked, "Now, about that beer..."
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