Chapter 24
Alex
Did I mention I hated everyone in here?
Mia’s dad had declared Christmas cocktails two-for-one, which basically meant we were serving pre-mixed White Russians to freshers who were going feral for them.
We put some fake glitter on top, called them ‘Polar Bears’, and apparently, that was enough to convince everyone they were in the fucking Arctic.
I was currently pouring twenty of the swirling, sugary nightmares.
Ben was dripping sweat as he desperately tried to keep up with the glass dishwasher.
The machine was on a constant loop, and he had to run the clean glasses under a cold tap just so we could use them without burning our hands off. It was chaos.
It had been so insane that even Mia hadn’t had time to pester me about Carrie. She got most of it out of her system last weekend—the weekend after our night at Carlos. The night that only lasted a few hours because Carrie finger-fucked me into a state of total collapse right at the table.
I liked being broken by her. I hadn't told Mia the details, finding a sick satisfaction in the secret knowledge that Carrie was fucking me just inches away from her. I’d fought so hard to keep my composure while I came on her fingers.
Mia spent all of last weekend alternating between ridiculing me for actually being exclusive and gushing over how perfect Carrie was.
Mia also pointed out that while she never doubted my prowess, Carrie was ethereal—and she had no idea how I was managing to keep a woman like that.
Me neither. Especially when I was... well, me.
I passed over the completed round of ‘Polar Bears’ to a group of excitable teens at my till. "Can we split it five ways?" A cute girl with dark, curly hair asked, giving me a genuinely apologetic smile.
"Fine," I said, offering a tight smile as I divided the total on the screen.
One by one, her friends stumbled over, struggling with their phones. Eventually, the short girl corralled the last of them. "All paid?"
"Yes, sweetheart," I said, feeling a genuine wave of relief. She smiled softly, reaching for her drinks. On an impulse, I reached out and stopped her. With a playful wink, I poured a quick vodka shot. "You need to get on their level," I murmured, pouring one for myself.
She grinned, clinking her glass against mine before we both downed them. "Thanks," she said with a shy smile, skipping back to her friends.
I turned around and nearly walked straight into Mia. She had body-blocked me, her arms crossed, glaring down at me like a vengeful goddess.
"What?" I shrugged.
"What the hell are you doing, Lex?" she hissed, glancing toward the tills. "You can be a lesbian whore all you like, Lex—you know I usually support the lifestyle—but you are in a relationship now! You can't be pulling girls whenever you fucking feel like it."
I immediately felt sick, putting my hands up. "Mia, I wasn't! The girl was nice, and I was just trying to be friendly. Not flirtatious."
Mia assessed me, searching for a lie before she shook her head. "You need to be careful. From where I’m standing, it didn’t look friendly. It looked like the old Alex. You and Dr. Vixen are... you’re meant to be. I am not standing by and letting you fuck this up."
My jaw dropped. The fact that she thought we were 'meant to be' caught me off guard. I stepped away from Mia to make more of those goddamn cocktails, my head spinning. I was a bit of a whore sometimes, sure, but I could never cheat on Carrie. Just thinking about it made me want to punch myself.
The rush finally slowed to a manageable simmer. Mia leaned against the back bar, wiping a stray splash of vodka from her forearm. "So," she started, her voice dropping. "Seriously. What’s it been like? The last week with her? You’ve been suspiciously quiet."
"Busy," I said, reaching for a rag to polish the counter. "Just... really busy."
"Busy? That’s it? No scandalous tales of being bent over a mahogany desk?"
I let out a dry, slightly exhausted laugh. "I wish. Honestly, it’s been the most boringly adult week of my life. I’ve seen her in lectures, obviously, and she’s picking me up tonight, but that’s about it."
I’d been buried under this term's final coursework deadlines, and Carrie had been even worse, marking non-stop to clear her mountain of grading before the holidays.
"So you're both just... working?" Mia asked, surprised. "Like a normal, functioning couple?”
"Yeah," I muttered, the word feeling strange in my mouth. "It’s weird. I miss her, obviously, but it’s actually kind of nice? Knowing she’s doing her thing and I’m doing mine, but she’s still the one waiting at the end of the shift."
Mia grinned. "Well, you better hope she’s finished that marking, Lex. You look like you’re about ten minutes away from a total meltdown, and I think we both know the only cure for that is a very stern Dr. Carter."
"LAST ORDERS AT THE BAR! FINISH YOUR DRINKS!" Mia bellowed over the music.
The trickle of customers turned into a literal tidal wave. I didn’t even have time to think. It was just muscle memory now—scooping ice, pouring vodka, shaking, straining.
Then, a prick appeared at my station. He was tall, wearing a shirt that was buttoned one too low, sporting a sly grin.
As I reached for a glass, I felt his eyes drop, lingering heavily on my chest. "Nice view from over here, darl," he drawled.
"How about you put a little extra sparkle in mine? I might make it worth your while."
In any other week, I would have shredded him. Tonight, I just felt a weary detachment. I bit my tongue so hard I could feel the sting.
"Moretti and a double gin," I said, my voice flat as I slid the drinks toward him.
"You're a quiet one, aren't you?" he pushed, leaning further over the bar. "I bet you've got a lot to say when you’re not behind a counter."
I punched the total into the till and spun the card machine around without a word. He eventually tapped his card, grumbling as he retreated. I didn't give a fuck.
By 1:00 a.m., Mia killed the music, and the lights revealed the true horror of the sticky floors. We ushered the stragglers toward the door. Every time the front door swung open, a gust of freezing night air reminded me that she was out there. Clean, composed, and utterly in control.
"Go on then, get out of here," Mia said, nudging me with a damp cloth. "I'll finish the bottle count. Your ride's probably seething you’re not already out there."
I rushed to the staff room, grabbed my coat, and stepped out into the cold. My eyes locked onto her immediately.
She was parked in the shadows under the orange glow of a flickering streetlight, leaning against the sleek bonnet of her car, arms folded over her chest. Still in her trench coat, she looked like a scene from a noir film—untouchable and entirely out of place in front of a dive bar.
I practically gravitated toward her. The second I was within reach, her hands found my waist, pulling me flush against her. I didn’t give her a chance to speak; I reached up and claimed her lips, erasing the memory of every Polar Bear I had served tonight.
Carrie let out a soft, amused chuckle against my mouth, pulling back just an inch. "Good shift?"
I rolled my eyes, my forehead resting against hers. "Terrible. Honestly, people are animals. I just want to be here."
I saw the shift in her expression immediately—the protective instinct flickering to life. Her grip on my waist tightened. She wanted a name. Fuck, I loved this protective side of her, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.
"Alex," she said, her voice dropping into that authoritative tone. "If someone—"
"Nope," I interrupted, pressing another kiss to her lips to shut her up.
I reached up, fumbling with the clip holding her hair in its perfect, professional twist. Carrie rolled her eyes, a small, indulgent smile tugging at her mouth, but she didn't stop me.
I pulled the clip free and let it drop into my pocket, watching as her dark hair spilled down over her shoulders.
I ran my hands through the soft strands.
She looked less like a lecturer now and more like mine.
"There," I grinned. "Much better. Now take me home?"
Carrie’s gaze softened, her thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "Whatever you want, darling."
She opened the passenger door for me. I watched through the windshield as she shrugged off her trench coat before getting into the driver’s side.
I let out a low wolf-whistle as my eyes raked over her in a dark grey dress that was devastating.
Carrie rolled her eyes, but the small curve of her lips told me she wasn’t offended.
She started the engine, and the car glided away from the curb.
I shifted in my seat, turning my body so I could just stare. The passing streetlights illuminated her sharp, elegant bone structure in rhythmic flashes.
The guilt from earlier tried to snake its way back into my throat.
The idea that I could even accidentally look like I was hunting someone else made me feel physically sick.
Why would I throw this away? Something flickered in my mind—a thought so foreign, so utterly not me. I don’t do normal. I don’t do proper.
But for her? I wanted the whole damn world to see us.
"Carrie?" I said, my voice sounding smaller than I intended.
She hummed in response, her gaze flicking briefly from the road to me. "Yes, darling?"
I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to back out. "Can I… I mean, would you let me take you on a date?"
The car didn't swerve, but I saw her fingers tighten on the steering wheel. The silence stretched, making my stomach drop.
"A date?" she repeated, her voice unreadable.
"Yeah," I rushed out, the words tumbling over each other.
"A real one. No bars where I work, no hidden booths. Somewhere nice. Somewhere where I can actually look at you across a table and not have to worry about anyone else. I want to do this properly. I want to show you that I’m serious about this. About you."