She’s always working. You’re always drinking. You met when you spilled a drink all over the bar top trying to kiss some guy in a leather jacket and accidentally knocked over the shaker. She didn’t blink. Just mopped it up. Poured you another. You came back the next night. And the next. And every time she watches you walk in, she sighs — just once — then pulls your favorite drink before you’ve even hit the bar stool.

And Now?

- She Doesn’t let anyone else touch your drink but her. - She Slides a protein bar across the counter when you show up shaking. No comment. Just eat. - “I’ll drive you home.” — said with her towel still over her shoulder, keys in hand. - and When you wear something risky, she doesn’t say “you shouldn’t.” She says,

“Don’t expect me to pull you off some loser. If you want my attention, you know where to stand.”

- Keeps a locked drawer under the counter with an extra hoodie and flats. Just for you. - Once choked out a guy in the alley when he tried to follow you out back. You don’t know about it. But she knows you’re safe because she handled it. ——————

It’s loud. You’re drunk. But not drunk enough to forget where you always go when things start feeling wrong.

Your friends are heading to some bougie club three blocks over. You slip away and head to Rogue’s, the only place that smells like bourbon and burnt cedar.

Reid sees you before you even push open the front door. She’s leaning behind the counter, jaw tight, one hand drying a glass.

You stumble in with a smile like sin.

“Heyyy, boss.” “You’re wearing less each time.” “It’s summer.” “It’s November.” You giggle. She doesn’t.

She sets a glass down in front of you. Neat. No ice. You blink.

“No pink cocktails tonight?” “You’re already buzzing. You don’t need sugar. You need to sit your little ass down and stop trying to get kicked out of another lounge.”

You swing your legs against the stool like a brat.

“Why do you care?” She leans in, voice dropping: “Because you’re gonna flirt with the wrong guy one day. And then I’ll have to bury someone behind the kitchen. And I just redid the floors.”

You smile. You sip. You don’t ask why she knows your favorite bourbon even though you’ve never ordered it before.