6. Ariana
6
ARIANA
I stand on the cracked sidewalk outside the bar, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my worn sweatshirt. The neon sign above the door flickers, buzzing like it’s just as tired as I am. I stare at it, trying to summon the courage to go in. This is definitely not the café.
The wind cuts through my clothes, biting at my skin. It’s colder tonight than it has been recently, and my toes are numb inside my sneakers. I should just go in. It’s warmer in there. I’ll order a hot water, sit in a dark corner, and wait for my fingers to thaw. I haven’t had any problems with anyone since I’ve started coming here. Besides, stealing from drunk people is easier than rich ones.
But my feet stay planted on the sidewalk.
I don’t know why I’m so anxious about it. I’ve been coming here in the evenings for the past few days, trying to avoid the coffee shop. It’s too loud here. Too loud, too dirty, too not my kind of place. But I’m trying to avoid him . And his charity.
The last time I went to the café, the barista told me a tall, tattooed guy paid for coffee and a pastry for me. I didn’t have to ask any other questions to know it was him . That latte and bagel were the best-tasting things I’ve had in ages. And it made me like him even more.
I didn’t look back the last time I left the shop, leaving him sitting there. But I could still feel his eyes on me, burning right through my skin, and that alone was too much for me to handle. The man is potent, and I’m smart enough to know that while I can handle just about any situation, he might be the exception. Which is why I have to avoid him. Because the more I decide I like him, the worse off I’ll be.
I swallow hard, shifting from foot to foot, trying to psych myself up. This bar isn’t in the safest area of Bend, but the bartender doesn’t care if I only order hot water. She’s nice enough, and she even slips me packets of crackers and honey sometimes.
Finally, I force my feet to move, pushing open the heavy door. The smell of stale beer hits me like a wave, and I blink, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light. The soles of my shoes stick to the floor, and I have to force myself not to think about how filthy it must be to be that sticky.
There aren’t many people here—there are a few guys hunched over the bar, talking quietly, and a couple at a table by the jukebox. I make a beeline for the far end of the bar, where the bartender—Leigh—gives me a small smile.
“Hey, sweetheart. You good?” she asks, wiping down a glass.
I nod, pulling my sleeves over my hands. “Just a hot water, please.”
She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, filling a chipped mug and sliding it over. I curl my hands around it, letting the heat warm my frozen fingers.
“Cold out there tonight,” Leigh says, glancing at the door.
“Yeah,” I keep my eyes dipped, not wanting to get into a conversation with the woman. She seems like she always wants to ask me questions, but I don’t ever give her the chance.
I take a sip, letting the hot water burn its way down my throat, and try to relax. Leigh leaves me alone, tending to the guys at the other end of the bar. The muffled music from the jukebox blends with the low hum of conversation, and I start to unwind a little.
When my cup is empty, I thank Leigh quietly, leave a dollar on the bar, and slip back out into the night. The wind has picked up, and I hug myself tighter, wishing I had another layer on. My feet drag as I head back toward where my camper and car are broken down, the entire time, my thoughts still stuck on the man in the coffee shop. One day I’ll forget about him. I just need to get my car fixed and get the heck away from this town. The sooner the better.
* * *
T he bar is busier tonight, but Leigh still greets me with a small smile when I slip inside. I rub my hands together, trying to get the feeling back into my fingertips, and order my usual hot water.
It’s warmer in here than outside or in my camper, and I linger by the end of the bar, sipping slowly, savoring the heat seeping into my bones. I’m trying not to think about the café or the way he keeps creeping into my thoughts when I’m supposed to be focusing on fixing the mess I’m in. I need to figure out how to get a job. And save some money so I can fix my car. Not thinking about a man I’ve only spoken to a couple of times, whose name I don’t even know.
“Hey, Leigh, are you hiring here?” I call out when she moves toward me to grab a bottle of something.
She glances in my direction and shakes her head. “Sorry, doll. They just hired a dishwasher, so we’re a full house at the moment. I’ll let you know if anything opens up. Have you bartended before?”
It’s my turn to shake my head as my heart drops. I’ve never had any real job before. Filling out an application is daunting in itself. I don’t even know my Social Security Number. In reality, the only two things I really know how to do are garden and steal. And I don’t think I’ll find a job growing vegetables anywhere around here. Even though I can grow some pretty dang good stuff.
If I had room in my camper to grow some plants, I’d try. I could probably sell some veggies on the side of the street or something. But not only is the space too cramped, the lighting is terrible, so every time I’ve tried to plant seeds, they do nothing.
Which leaves stealing. As much as I hate it, I’m nearly to the point that I just might have to go pickpocketing again to get some money to fix my car. I need to get out of this town. Drive somewhere warmer. And get as far away from the gorgeous, tattooed beast who has been taking up way too much space in my mind.
When my cup is empty, I thank Leigh as she fills a paper to-go one for me, and I slip out into the night. The air hits me like a slap, cold and sharp, and I hunch my shoulders and squeeze my cup. The walk back to my camper is a bit longer than the one from the café. At least the hot water is helping. I take a soothing sip and start my trek home.
As I’m crossing the gravel lot, I hear raised voices. A man’s harsh growl followed by a woman’s muffled whimper. My heart kicks up, and I pause, trying to pinpoint where it’s coming from.
There, just beyond the edge of the lot, near a busted fence. It’s dark, but the bar’s neon light flickers enough to cast a glow on them. The guy is big, looming over the woman, gripping her arm hard enough that I can see the way her body jerks when he shakes her.
“You think you can just walk away from me?” he snarls.
The woman tries to pull away, but he grabs her shoulders, shaking her harder.
Something flares in my chest. I can’t leave her. She deserves help. Before I can second-guess myself, I’m moving toward them, my steps loud enough on the gravel that the guy glances up.
“Hey!” I shout fiercely. “Let her go!”
He sneers, not even bothering to release her. “Mind your business and get the fuck out of here, bitch!”
Every word out of his mouth is slurred, and as I get closer, I swallow thickly. He’s even bigger than I thought. Husky and tall. He looks like he could be a linebacker. In a high-security prison.
I try not to judge people by appearances, but I can’t help it with this asshole. Café guy might look like he murders people, but I’m pretty sure this drunk dude truly does kill people.
That thought should stop me and force me to back away, but instead, I swallow the fear clawing up my throat and square my shoulders, taking another step closer. “Let her go,” I repeat, voice firm. “Right now.”
The woman looks at me with wide, terrified eyes, shaking her head at me, and the guy just scoffs, turning back to his victim.
That’s it. I can’t just stand here and do nothing. I tighten my grip on the cup and fling my hot water at the man, aiming for his face.
He screams, stumbling back as the scalding liquid hits him. “You crazy fucking?—”
The woman uses the distraction to jerk free, clutching her arm. I put myself between her and the guy, glaring up at him even though my hands are shaking.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I shout as loudly as I can, hoping to attract someone’s attention from the parking lot. “You don’t get to treat people like that! Back off!”
The guy’s face twists in anger, red from the burn, and he takes a step toward me. I don’t move. I plant my feet, every nerve in my body screaming at me to run, but I don’t back down.
“You cunt—” He reaches for me, but I shove him hard, knocking him off balance. He stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet. He’s drunk, slurring his curses, and I take advantage of it, pushing him again. This time, he falls, landing hard on his ass. Honestly, I’m surprised the ground doesn’t shake beneath us. The guy is as solid as a rock. I don’t have time to think about it, though, because before I can right myself, I stumble forward and fall, my arm scraping against the gravel, pushing my sleeve up so the cold rocks nip at my skin.
I yell to the woman, keeping my voice calm despite the adrenaline rushing through me. “Go inside. Tell Leigh to call the cops.”
She hesitates, but when the guy starts cursing again, she takes off toward a car instead of the bar.
I scramble up quickly, trying to keep my breathing steady while not focusing on how much my arm stings. He’s glaring at me, eyes wild and full of hate.
“You think you’re tough?” he slurs as he tries to get up, though he’s not nearly as quick as I am. “You’re dead, you hear me? I’m gonna kill you. You’re gonna pay for this!”
My heart pounds, fear clawing at my throat. I’m not stupid. I know I’ve made things worse. I take a cautious step back.
Crap.
When he lunges forward, I don’t think—I just take off. My legs move on their own, pounding against the pavement as I sprint toward the alley, weaving through the dark paths that I know better than he does. I guess it’s the one advantage of walking around here every day. Knowing all the different routes and hiding spots. I don’t look back. I can hear him shouting, his footsteps heavy but uneven behind me.
I dart through a cluster of trees, breathing hard, heart thundering. I keep running until I’m sure he’s not behind me anymore. When I finally slow, I’m gasping for breath, and I have to pause for a few minutes until I’m no longer shaking and gasping for air.
My camper and car are a few feet ahead, hidden in a densely forested area. Relief floods me as I stumble through the last stretch of trees. I’m almost there. I just need to get inside, lock the door, and?—
“Jesus Christ!” I yelp, nearly jumping out of my skin when I see a figure on the steps.
It’s him . The guy from the café.
He’s sitting on the stoop of my camper, a flashlight in one hand and a murderous look on his face. The beam of light catches his dark eyes, making them look almost black.
I freeze, clutching my chest as I try to catch my breath. “You scared me! What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t answer right away, just glares at me like I’ve personally offended him by being out this late. Finally, he gets to his feet, towering over me, his jaw clenched tight, and at the moment, drunk guy seems a little less scary than café guy.
“What the fuck are you doing living in the woods when it’s freezing cold?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
My mouth goes dry. “Excuse me?”
His jaw ticks, and for a second, I think he might actually yell at me. Instead, he mutters something under his breath and scrubs a hand over his face.
“Why are you sitting on my steps like some serial killer?” I snap, still trying to catch my breath as I wrap my arms around myself more as a shield of protection than warmth.
He doesn’t answer, just looks at me with those intense eyes, as if he’s trying to figure out whether to shake me or drag me inside.
“It’s freezing out here,” he finally says, his voice softer but still sharp. “Get inside.”
I glare at him, even though my teeth are chattering. “You can’t just?—”
“Inside. Now.”
I hesitate, but the exhaustion hits me all at once, and I don’t have the energy to argue. I push past him, yanking the door open, and he follows me without asking, shutting the cold out after he enters.
Fluffy meows from the bed, eyeing our guest warily.
“Pack up whatever shit you need. You’re not staying here another night.”
My mouth falls open as I stare at the stranger taking up too much space in my home. “What? This is where I live. And you never said why you’re here. I don’t even know your name. How did you find me?”
Slowly, like a predator creeping up on its prey, he approaches. “Jasper. And you don’t live here anymore, so pack your stuff.”