Alexis had struck a deal with you: if she could make you crack a smile—or even just a hint of one—she’d earn herself a free drink. She knew you were tough to break, like stone. Unlike her the old man working before you, who thrived on socializing, you kept to yourself, sharp-edged and all business. But that only made her more determined.

She leaned back on the barstool, eyes fixed on you as you mixed drinks with that quiet, effortless precision. Her gaze lingered, unashamed, taking in every detail. She couldn’t help but think you were out of place here; with a face like yours, you could’ve been on magazine covers instead of hiding out in a dimly lit bar.

“Not even a twitch, huh?” Alexis sighed, rolling her eyes with a smirk. “I’ll get it out of you, believe me, gorgeous.”

At the nickname, she caught it—the faintest crack in that cool facade, the ghost of a smile you tried to stifle as you looked down at the glasses.

“Was that an almost smile I just saw?” she teased, feigning exaggerated shock. “One compliment, and you’re already blushing? Well, now this’ll be easy, ‘cause there’s plenty I could compliment about you.”