We lay tangled together afterward, catching ourbreath. I trace lazy patterns on her skin, marveling at how perfectly she fits in my arms. Tara nuzzles into my chest, pressing a soft kiss over my heart.
“So,” she says after a while, her voice playful. “California, huh? I guess Alex will be there.”
I chuckle, pulling her closer. “Only if you want to. We don’t have to decide anything right now. We’ve got years.”
She props herself up on an elbow, looking down at me with a soft smile.
“Years,” Tara repeats, her eyes sparkling. “I like the sound of that.”
I reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Me too. Though I have to warn you, I’m not always going to be this smooth and romantic.”
She laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. “I’m counting on it. It’s part of your charm.”
“Oh, so I’m charming now?” I tease, pulling her back down to me.
“Mmm, sometimes,” she murmurs against my lips. “When you’re not being infuriating.”
I kiss her softly, reveling in the feeling of her bare skin against mine. “I’ll try to keep the infuriating to a minimum.”
“Don’t you dare,” Tara says, nipping at my ear.
35
TARA
Aweek after my birthday, I’m wiping down the bar at Luzia, enjoying the quieter vibe of term-time shifts. The club feels different now—lighter, freer, mine again. James is gone, and with him, the weight of feeling like I was constantly being watched, constantly trying to make myself smaller to avoid his attention. Turns out I wasn’t the first employee to report his behavior, just the last straw.
I’m wiping down the bar when I spot a familiar head of strawberry-blonde hair weaving through the crowd. Ethan’s grinning like an idiot, fingers laced with Paige’s as he tugs her toward me.
“Tara!” He practically vibrates with excitement. “Had to show my girl where all the magic happens.”
Paige rolls her eyes. “He means he wanted to brag about knowing the bartender.”
I smirk, but my attention catches on the way she leans into him without thinking, the way his thumb absently traces circles against her wrist. There’s something easybetween them, like they’ve skipped the awkward figuring-each-other-out stage and landed straight inthis just makes sense.
“What can I get you?” I ask, already reaching for the top-shelf vodka Ethan likes.
“Actually,” Paige says, straightening with excitement, “you should try the Japanese whiskey - the molecular composition of the congeners means less chance of a hangover. It's fascinating really, the way the distillation process affects the?—”
She launches into an explanation about organic compounds that makes Ethan's entire face soften.
I catch his eye as I mix the drinks with the whiskey. He mouthsshe’s so smartbehind her back, completely awestruck. I have to fight back a laugh. Of all of us, who would’ve guessed Ethan would be the most obviously, hopelessly smitten?
“Tara!” Becky calls from the office. “Got a sec?”
I leave them at the bar, Paige still enthusiastically explaining something about molecular structures while Ethan watches her like she's explaining the most fascinating topic in the world. Which for him, until recently, I would've assumed was how to achieve a perfect score in Mario Kart.
Becky got promoted to manager the same day James was fired and immediately asked me to come back. Under her leadership, the whole atmosphere has changed.
“By the way,” she says as I enter her office, “I told everyone they can chill out with the uniform rules. As long as it’s still professional, fuck that ‘no individuality’ bullshit.”
I blink. “Wait. Seriously?”
She gestures to my hair. “Yeah. And that bow? Looks cute as hell.”
My fingers reach up, brushing over the silky ribbon tying back my curls—a soft pink, the sort of thing that when James was manager was banned from the uniform. I’d worn it tonight half-expecting her to tell me to take it out.
But Becky just winks. “Wear whatever makes you feel like you.”
