Just as I finish tying my shoes, the door opens, and Lacey, my roommate, walks in with her best friend, Jules. “Going to work?” Lacey asks.
I nod.
“I’m using the room tonight. Find somewhere else to sleep,” Lacey says.
She’s not pleasant. Since, before this semester, I lived at home, I pretty much got stuck with a roommate nobody else wanted when I moved into a dorm so late in the year.
I ro
ll my eyes, not willing to just give her what she wants too easily. “Can’t you stay in your boyfriend’s room?”
Lacey shakes her head, her long hair whipping around her face. Drama queen.
“Nope. I have a nine a.m. exercise class, and I need to be here to get ready. Deal with it.” She runs a hand through her keratin-straightened hair.
Like me, Lacey comes from money and can buy whatever she wants. Unlike me, her parents adore her and think the world revolves around her oh-so-special self. So when she wants our room, she expects me to give it up.
“Whatever,” I say, knowing I’ll lose this fight. She will lock me out no matter what I say, so I grab a bag and shove clothes in for overnight and tomorrow. I’ll just stay with my friend Robin. We met freshman year, and she’s the best friend I have here. Not even the sex tape drove her away.
A little while later, I walk into the darkened bar. My boss, Tank, runs the bar side while his brother, Trevor, handles the actual restaurant. They couldn’t be more different, and I think that’s why this type of setup works. Tank is a teddy bear with a tough name. He’s a middle-aged ex-Marine with a big heart and bigger mouth.
He waves at me as I put my things away. “Hey, Chloe-girl!”
“Hi, Tank.” I tie an apron around my waist and gather an order pad and a pen.
“Home Yankee game tonight. Hoping for a big crowd.” He points to the big screen television behind the scarred wooden bar.
“I hope so too.” I could use the tips. I’m lucky my parents didn’t cut me off after the sex-tape scandal, but they said one more embarrassment and they’d do it. I definitely believe them.
Which was why I decided it was time to stand on my own — as much as someone whose entire schooling is paid for by her parents can. I know I’m fortunate, and I appreciate what I have. But money can’t buy the things that are important, like love and respect. My parents give me neither.
I actually think it runs in the water in the high-class neighborhood where I grew up. We live next door to Constance Ferro, a woman who scares me even more than my own parents, and that’s saying something. Her sons are decent guys. I’m closest with Sean.
Once I got past my ridiculous crush on him when I was sixteen and he was twenty-four, he became like the big brother I never had. I think he knew how bad things were in my house and felt sorry for me. I can go to him for anything. He hasn’t had it easy. There was a big scandal when he was accused of killing his wife. He was acquitted, but it didn’t matter to me. I never believed it and still don’t. But everyone else does, and he seems willing to let that stigma stand. Because of that, he hates New York.
The whole situation makes me sad, and I won’t give up on him. Until recently, he was rarely in town, but thanks to his on-and-off fiancé, Avery Stanz, he’s here more lately, and he was around when I needed help after the sex tape aired. Turns out Avery had been through something similar. They talked me through handling things, and he even gave me a quick hug before tucking me into my car. He reminded me to be strong. I am now, and I’m happy to be living on my own, even if it means dealing with selfish roommates and leering college guys.
Over the next hour, The Tavern fills up fast. Tank was right. The baseball game brings in a huge crowd. I rush around taking orders, delivering drinks, and ignoring come-ons. And then it happens. The tingling along my spine and the distinct sense of awareness that tells me he’s here.
He doesn’t have a name. He’s Hot Guy to me and to the other waitresses. And I do mean hot. I noticed him two weeks ago. The first night he came in, he sat in a dark corner in the back of the bar, his gaze obviously on me. I saw the green of his eyes from across the room, and a sizzling sense of awareness rocked through me. His blond hair is longer than on the appropriate guys I used to date, the ones who my parents approved of. Not that I gave them anything for their trouble. No, I saved that present for my asshole ex, and boy, did he make me regret it.
Back to Hot Guy. I turn, and sure enough, there he is. His gaze burns through me. With his black fitted tee shirt and shaggy sandy hair, he screams trouble, and I’ve had enough lately. My body doesn’t seem to agree, and every time I look at him, a zap goes through me. He’s rough around the edges and definitely older than me.
I don’t normally react to men on a visceral level, but I’ve never seen one like him. He’s so freaking sexy, and while other guys have to work hard for my attention, he had it from the get-go. I’m just not sure he wants it. Talk about mixed signals. He stares at me but doesn’t make a move. And since he never sits in my station, I take that as a hint.
He’s not interested. I ignore the dip in my stomach and assure myself this is a good thing, since after the sex tape, I’ve sworn off all men.
Hours later, my legs ache and I’m rubbing my back when Tank yells for me to take a break. I’d go out back for fresh air, but I don’t like to walk alone to my car after work as it is. The restaurant clientele is long gone, and the bar crowd isn’t always safe. I’m not going to tempt fate by hanging out alone out there during a break when any sleazeball can come by and harass me.
Harassment happens anyway. I serve a rowdy group of guys I recognize from the university. One in particular is handsy, and he annoys me. I’m serving their second round now, and I hope it’s their last.
I lean over the table to place drinks in front of the far end when I feel a hand squeeze my ass. “Let go,” I say through clenched teeth. “Unless you want to see where Tank got his name.”
His friends whistle and make fun of him for getting turned down.
“She’s a tease and a cunt,” the guy mutters. “Everyone knows she’s a slut. See?” He pulls out his phone.
I know what’s coming, and I cringe as he plays my sex tape for his friends to see. I straighten my shoulders and ignore him, swallowing back tears. I need this job, no matter how big of an ass he is. I can’t make a scene, but I can deliberately wait to serve the jerk last.