Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
Sawyer – Three Months Later
I’m late. Again.
I wish I could say this is surprising, but it’s not. Time management and I have never been the best of friends.
To be fair, it’s not entirely my fault.
You see, my room, like my life, is normally a mess. But it’s an organized mess.
For example, are there a dozen different piles of clothes and junk on the floor? Yes. But do I know exactly what is in each of those piles? Also, yes.
It may look like a disaster to the naked eye, but it’s perfectly organized to me. Or it was, until Aria came in and cleaned my room for me.
I know she meant well, and I can’t exactly be mad at her considering she didn’t hesitate to take me in and give me a place to live when I showed up at her doorstep three months ago.
Aria’s been my best friend since I was ten years old. We grew up in the same trailer park before she got a big modeling gig and moved to Seattle. Aria knows me better than I know myself most days, so the bitch knows not to touch my room.
I know her cleaning wasn’t for my benefit but for her own, so she doesn’t have to look at my organized chaos every time she walks past my room.
Anyway, since my room was all clean and “organized” as one could say, I couldn’t find my work T-shirt anywhere. I effectively messed up my room again, throwing all the clothes out of my closet and searching for it, only to realize she’d put it in the hamper.
Now here I am, sprinting down the streets of Seattle, sweating my ass off in my T-shirt that smells like dirty laundry, to try and make it to the bar on time for my shift.
By the time I slam open the door to the employee entrance of Pickles Tap Room, I’m completely out of breath.
Fuck, I should do more cardio.
Josh, my manager, who’s only twenty years old by the way, stands in front of me with a disapproving look on his face. I may only be four years older than him, but still, it pisses me off when the dude acts like he’s so much better than me.
Josh is the type of manager who thinks it’s okay to hit on all of the female employees and gets his ego hurt anytime they don’t fall to his feet. Not sure any of them would since he acts more like a whiny baby than a man on most days.
“Oh, Josh, perfect,” I say, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“You’re seven minutes late, Sawyer.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Less than ten minutes this time.” I smile wide, but he doesn’t seem to like my joke. “Listen, I’m really sorry. It’s been a chaotic day; I’ll just get right to work.” I go to walk past him, but he steps in front of me, blocking the hallway that leads to the bar.
“It’s also the sixth time you’ve shown up late in the past month,” he says.
“I mean, I’ve worked basically every day the past month, so when you think about it, six out of thirty-one days really isn’t that bad,” I point out.
“It’s still six days too many.” He shakes his head. “Look, it’s been nice having you as an employee, but I just don’t think this is working out. I’m really sorry, Sawyer.”
“Bullshit,” I mumble under my breath.
“Excuse me?” he asks.
“I said, that’s bullshit.” I scoff. “You’ve been wanting to fire me from the second I turned you down. By the way, isn’t it considered inappropriate for a manager to ask an employee to, and I quote, ‘Netflix and chill’ with them?”
“I don’t recall the scenario you’re talking about,” he says, annoyance in his tone. “Regardless of your feelings, you’re still fired.”
“That’s fine. I’ll find another job.” I nod. “Oh, but in case you were wondering why I turned you down?” I walk toward him so that we’re only inches apart, standing across from him, eye to eye.
I’ve always loved the fact that I’m five foot ten, specifically for moments like this.
“Because from the day I met you, I could just tell you were giving small dick energy.” I pause. “Then, I talked to some of the other employees here who you’ve fucked, and well, guess what?” I lean in close. “Turns out I was right,” I whisper.
I pull back, a wide smile on my face. His face, on the other hand, is beet red. Probably a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
I turn around to leave, satisfied.
“Wait,” he says, his voice strained with anger. “I’ll need that shirt back,” he says, a sleazy grin on his face.
“Seriously?” I raise a brow at him, a laugh falling from my lips,
“Yeah seriously, Sawyer. That’s an employee shirt, and you’re no longer an employee,” he says confidently.
“Alright, no problem.” I smile, lifting the sweaty shirt over my head, balling it up, and chucking it right at his face.
It hits him and he scoffs before grabbing it in his hand. His eyes widen when he looks at me standing in nothing but jeans and my black bra.
I let him stare just long enough for it to sink in that he’ll never have me. Then, I walk to the corner of the room, grabbing a large T-shirt that smells like stale beer out of the lost and found and pulling it over my head.
“You know what, Josh? Now that I don’t work here and I have nowhere to be, I think I’ll go get myself a drink.” I smirk, pushing past him and walking to the front of the bar.
“Sawyer, what are you doing?” Tammy, my former coworker, asks me from behind the bar.
“Got fired.” I shrug. “Can I get three shots of tequila?” I ask, plopping down on the barstool across from her. “Oh, and don’t forget the limes, pretty please.”
She looks unsure of what to say, so she just nods, walking away to pour the shots and get the limes. She then places them in a straight row in front of me just as Josh walks out with an annoyed look on his face.
I stare at him as I throw all three of them back, one after the other, and then suck the juice from the limes. I stay there for a second, savoring the burn of the tequila, before turning back to Tammy.
“Much better.” I nod. “Thanks, Tam. It’s been a blast working with you,” I say, although Tammy’s new and I’ve hardly spoken more than a few sentences to her since she’s been here.
Now that I think of it, she may have been hired as my replacement. Oh well, good for Tammy.
“Uh yeah, you too,” she says apprehensively, quickly excusing herself to go help other customers.
I stand from the barstool, looking over to Josh as he clears his throat.
“You gonna pay for those?” he asks.
“Take it out of my last paycheck.” I shrug. “Wish I could say it was nice knowing you, Joshy boy, but it really hasn’t been.”
And with that, I head out of the bar. I walk the few blocks back to Aria’s apartment, no longer in any rush at all.
I have no job, no clue whose disgusting shirt that I’m wearing, and I’m fucking pissed because a small dick loser somehow snagged a managerial position and was able to fire me.
It’s around eight forty by the time I make it back to the apartment, and I find Aria sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone.
“Hey, what are you doing home?” she asks, surprise in her voice.
“Why’d you clean my room?” I ask, frustration in my voice.
She rolls her eyes. “Bitch, don’t even start. You know your messiness gives me anxiety. We’ve talked about this.”
“Ugh, I know,” I say, walking over to the couch to plop down next to her. “But you know I need my mess to be organized.” I huff.
“Then close your door so I can’t see your mess and I won’t be inclined to clean it,” she says simply.
She’s told me this a million times, for the record. I just forget to listen. It probably is my fault I ended up here, but we don’t need to admit that out loud.
“So, why are you home? What happened?” she asks again.
“I got fired.” I slump further into the couch.
“Were you late again?” she asks knowingly.
“Only seven minutes,” I mumble.
“Seven minutes is like nothing for you,” she says. “It’s less than ten.”
“That’s what I said.” I smile at her, and she laughs. “Anyway, it’s fine, I’ll find another job. Don’t worry, I still have enough savings to pay you rent this month.”
“I’m not worried, S. I’ve told you before, you don’t actually have to pay me rent, you know?” She shakes her head.
“I know.” I nod. “Just like you know that I’m not okay with that.”
“I know,” she says, understanding.
Aria makes good money now from modeling, but we both came from nothing. That’s why she won’t argue with me about this, she knows it’s important to me not to have to rely on her.
I’m not above forcing her to live with me, but I’ll always pay my share. If I didn’t, I’d feel like I was taking advantage of her and the money she’s worked so hard for. Something I’d never do.
“Well, I have no plans tonight. You wanna go get drunk and forget all of our problems?” She smirks at me.
“You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.’’ I smile, throwing an arm around her shoulder.
“And you smell like a frat boy.” She laughs.
“Yeah, long story.” I sigh. “Let me shower first.”
Carl’s, the small bar that Aria brought me to, is crowded, but not too crowded that it becomes overwhelming. It’s not the college student crowd I’m used to over at Pickles Tap Room, and I’m grateful for it.
Aria and I make a beeline for the bar as soon as we walk in. She orders a rum and Coke, while I order a vodka soda and another tequila shot. She insists on paying for the first round since, as of a couple hours ago, I’m officially unemployed.
I look around the room taking it all in as we wait for our drinks. It’s a cute place. It gives off an old school, classic bar vibe but also doesn’t feel old itself.
It’s all dark-brown wood, with booths lining the left side of the wall while the bar is on the right. High-top tables are scattered throughout the center with standing room around them. It’s a nice atmosphere. Chatter fills the room, and rock music plays in the background as the bartender hands us our drinks.
I down the shot before following Aria over to a small, high-top table in the corner of the room with my drink.
“Isn’t this place so cute?” Aria asks as she jumps up onto a barstool. “My agent recommended it to me months ago and I’ve only been here a couple times since, but I feel like it gives good vibes.”
“Yeah, it’s nice.” I shrug, still too annoyed to fully enjoy myself.
She then goes on to tell me about the new modeling campaign she just booked for a new clothing company that she’s super excited about. Aria’s always been naturally beautiful, so I wasn’t the least bit surprised when she booked her first modeling gig when we were kids.
She’s around the same height as me, maybe an inch or two shorter, with long black hair and light green eyes. She used to joke that if she had copper hair, we’d be twins, but I could never see it. We look similar in some ways, and so different in others.
I think the main difference between us is that she has a lightness about her. When she smiles, it’s captivating. She looks effortlessly happy, like she has no worries and life is just a breeze, even though I know it hasn’t been the case for her.
For me, nothing seems effortless. Sometimes it feels like it takes everything in me to force a smile on my face. I know it’s not actually effortless for her either, but I guess she just hides it better than I do.
I’ve never been very good at hiding or lying about who I am or how I feel.
Most of the time, I’m probably too honest. I know I’m a mess. I know I can be a bitch. But that’s me. If you can’t deal with it, then you’re not a part of my life.
I’m honestly lucky that Aria has stuck by me for as long as she has. Although she can be a lot sometimes too, she’s my sister in every way that matters. I’d do anything for her, and I know she’d do the same for me.
“Are you listening to me?” she asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“I was… but then I got distracted,” I admit. “I heard up until the shoot is next Friday.”
“Well, that was basically all the important stuff anyway.” She shrugs. “What’s on your mind?”
“Just thinking about how lucky I am that you put up with me.” I smirk.
Guess that’s one thing to smile about.
“Yeah, you really are,” she says sarcastically. “I mean, without me, you’d be unemployed and homeless,” she jokes, and I reach across the table, slapping her arm.
“Shut up.” I laugh, knowing that, although she’s joking, she’s right. I do owe her a lot.
“Hey, but seriously, you know that I’m happy you’re here, right?” she asks. “The people I’ve met here are nice, but life was getting boring without my best friend.”
“Aw, I knew you couldn’t survive long without me.” I wink at her. “I’m really happy to be here with you too.” I hold up my glass. “To never being boring together,” I say.
She smiles, clinking her glass against mine before taking a sip. I chug back the rest of my drink, probably faster than I should, but that’ll be a regret for tomorrow.
I set down my empty glass. “I’m gonna get another one, do you want anything?” I ask.
“I’m good for now,” she says, looking at her still half-full glass.
I walk back over to the bar, and order myself a second vodka soda. After paying the bartender, I walk back to the table, drink in hand. I nearly trip when a large man pulls out his chair right in front of me, forcing me to walk right into him.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I huff out as the contents of the drink I just paid for spill all over him.
Yes, it spilled on him rather than on me, which is a plus, but now I’ve wasted money that I can’t afford to lose since I’m now jobless.
“You made me spill my drink.” I cross my arms over my chest, annoyance written all over my face.
The man in front of me is tall enough that I have to look up at him, which is rare for me. He has short brown hair and a beard trimmed close to his face.
His dark brown eyes lock on mine, but I can’t seem to figure out what he’s thinking.
“You walked into me,” he finally says, raising a brow at me. His voice is deep and a bit raspy, like he doesn’t use it often. “And you spilled your drink on me,” he adds, sounding annoyed.
He looks down at his now-wet shirt, and my eyes can’t help but do the same. The fabric clings to him, outlining the muscles he clearly has underneath. He’s hot as hell, but now’s not the time for that.
I swallow heavily, forcing the attraction away and focusing on my anger.
“Yeah, clearly because you were in my way,” I point out, narrowing my eyes up at him. The asshole did pull his chair out right as I was walking past, he didn’t even give me time to stop.
“Well, you should go get yourself a new one then,” he says in a bored tone. “On second thought, are you even old enough to drink?”
“Fuck you. I’m twenty-four.” I raise my voice at him, fire boiling in my veins. I know I look young, but not fucking younger than twenty-one.
Plus, he should be offering to buy me a new drink, not telling me to get my own and questioning my age. Guess chivalry really is dead.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he says, sounding completely unbothered, which only pisses me off more.
“I’m definitely not your sweetheart.” I scoff. I force myself to take a deep breath, not really wanting to get in a full-on fight with this man in the middle of the otherwise chill bar.
All I really want is another drink, and at this point, it’s clear the shithead isn’t going to get me one.
“Whatever, I hope you have a shitty night,” I finally say, mustering up the fakest smile I can. “Fucking asshole,” I mumble as I push past him, deliberately bumping my shoulder into him.
I ignore the fact that our encounter seems to affect me more than him, nearly tripping over myself as I walk away. I don’t look back as I make my way back over to Aria’s side, setting the now empty glass on the table.
“Did you drink the whole thing on the walk back from the bar?” she questions with humor in her voice.
“An asshole bumped into me and made me spill it.” I huff, not bothering to sit down.
“Yikes,” she says. “You feel like heading home?” she asks. “Maybe we can pick up some cheap beer and snacks, and spend the rest of the night there?” she asks, knowing me well enough to know that’s exactly what I need.
In theory, coming out tonight was a great idea, but I can’t seem to kick the bad mood this day has put me in. All I want right now is to go home, put on comfy clothes, and get drunk on the couch with my best friend.
“Hell yes.” I smile. “Let’s go.”