“Yeah, he’s fine, but just be aware, ok?” she says carefully.
I bite back the urge to remind her that I’m twenty-one, not twelve. That I got this job on my own, moved out onmy own, that I handle my life on my own. James is just being friendly. Why does everyone always assume the worst? Like I’m some helpless princess who needs constant watching?
I take a breath, remembering that Becky has no idea about any of that and is just trying to be nice. And I really do get on with her.
“Okay, noted. Thanks.” I look away quickly, focusing on restocking garnishes. Her eyes are on me, full of concern.
I throw myself into taking orders.
“Hey,” Becky catches my attention between orders, “some of us are going to that new bottomless brunch place Sunday since we’re shut in the evening. You should come.”
Despite my earlier frustration, I find myself grinning. I would love to let my hair down and get to know Becky more.
“Only if you tell me how you get your eyeliner so perfect.”
“Oh honey”—she laughs—“that’s at least a three-mimosa conversation.”
My feet are killing me.Eight hours into my shift and I’m starting to regret these shoes, even if they make my legs look amazing. The late-night crowd has finally thinned out—just a few stragglers nursing expensive whiskey at the bar who are finishing up their drinking and making their way out. It’s been along ass day, from meeting Alfie for coffee this morning, agreeing to be hisfake girlfriend, going home and baking, seeing him again and him teasing me, to working a night shift.
“Great job tonight,” James says, appearing beside me as I wipe down the counter. “You’re picking this up faster than most, T.”
Becky’s warning from earlier echoes in my head, but I push it aside. I’m not going to let other people’s paranoia affect me.
“Thanks.” I try to ignore how close he’s standing.
“Hey Becky,” he calls out to her. “You can head out early. Tara and I can handle the close.”
Becky glances between us, hesitating. “You sure? I don’t mind staying?—”
“Go home.” James insists with that megawatt smile. “You’ve got that early class tomorrow, right?”
She grumbles something and then leaves, leaving the two of us alone.
“So,” he says, moving behind the bar with me, “tell me more about yourself, Tara.”
I chuckle. “Like what? My favorite color is pink; animal is probably a flamingo.”
“You seeing anyone?”
“Um.” I focus on arranging bottles, keeping my hands busy. “Not really.”But I am fake dating my brother’s best friend, who I happen to have a huge crush on.
“Pretty girl like you? Hard to believe.”
I force a laugh, hating how it comes out nervous and high-pitched. “Just focused on work and school, you know?”
“Right, school.” He’s definitely standing too close now. “What year are you again?”
“Going into my third.” I step away, pretending tocheck the ice well. “Still need to restock some garnishes before we close.”
“No rush.” His voice is soft.
I nod.
“You have really beautiful eyes,” James says, stepping in like he’s testing how close he can get. “So blue.”
I shift back instinctively, but there’s nowhere to go. The bar presses into my spine. My fingers tighten around the edge, nails digging in. I keep my face neutral, casual. Like I don’t notice. Like it’s fine.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. “Sorry, I should check that. Could be my brother.”
