I've slowly but surely gotten the hang of things here at Vice. It's been a week and a half since my first shift and it's been exhausting as hell, but worth it. Nights like these are my favorite; bustling and busy, with big tippers.

Vice opens its doors in about twenty minutes, and I'm setting up barstools and wiping down tabletops when my overzealous co-worker Kaia skips towards me and playfully swats my ass with a dish rag.

I turn towards the tall blonde and raise a brow in amusement, "What's up?"

"Somebody impressed the boss," she teases.

Confused, I brush a few loose strands of hair from my face and turn towards her, "What do you mean?"

Now she's the one who looks confused. "Did you not see it?"

"Kaia," I huff impatiently, "Obviously not. What am I missing here?"

"The schedule on the bulletin board. You've got like, twice as many shifts as everyone else. I mean not that I'm jealous or anything, because God this job is demanding, and-"

I'm frozen as I tune out the rest of Kaia's frazzled ranting. Twice as many shifts as everyone else? What the fuck?

For a minute, I'm confused as to why Austin would do something like that. He knows that I'm still working at RJ's as well, and it's already tough juggling two shifts in one day. Not to mention that I've only been here for a week.

And then it hits me.

He knows I need the money.

I'm torn between embarrassment and gratitude. I'm not totally opposed to more shifts. Kaia's right—this job is demanding. Vice is always flooded with customers, meaning lots and lots of drink orders, but I do need the money. No matter how hectic working two jobs can be, the paychecks are consistent and secure.

But I think I'm embarrassed because he knows I need the money. I don't know why, but his opinion of me matters.

And I fucking hate it.

I've never let someone get under my skin. Never thought twice about just owning who I am, and if someone didn't like that, then fuck 'em. But he's different.

I push the feeling of embarrassment away, and allow anger to take over. Anger is something I'm good at, used to. It's easier to be angry.

"This schedule," I blurt out, "where is it?"

Kaia blinks in confusion. "Uh, it's posted on the bulletin board down the hall from Austin's office, but-"

I walk away before Kaia can finish speaking, partially aware of how rude I'm being, but determined to see this schedule for myself and get some answers.

I march up the winding staircase, turn a sharp corner, and stop abruptly in front of the large bulletin board at the end of the dimly lit hall.

Amidst a random array of reminders, phone numbers, and a calendar, a schedule for September sits proudly in the middle of the board. My index finger skims the list of employees, and I let out a frustrated huff when I finally see for myself that I am indeed on the schedule for every night that Vice is open.

For a brief second, the tiny thought of how this must look to the employees that were here long before me crosses my mind. And then I mentally shake my head. Never in my twenty-one years of living have I ever given a flying fuck about what others think of me. What is happening to me?

I turn around and walk to the door a few feet away from the bulletin board. The title Manager is displayed proudly on the wood, the gold placard surrounding the printed word glinting at me mischievously.

I raise my hand and knock. Loudly.

A muffled "Come in," is the green light I need, so I turn the door handle and stride in with determination.

The sight of Austin leaning lazily against the front of his desk, arms crossed and small grin etched across his handsome face, almost throws me off for a second. I ignore the guy sprawled across from him in a large leather chair—the same guy that was with Austin when he showed up at RJ's and impulsively hired me—and instead I match his stance and cross my own arms, shooting him a small glare.

He opens his mouth to speak first, but I cut him off. The embarrassment I tried to bury surfaces, and all common sense flies out of the window. "Why did you hire me?" I blurt out.

The small grin on his face slowly fades and in its place a small frown and a look of confusion forms.

"Because you applied?" he questions.

I exhale and run a tired hand over my flushed cheeks. "I basically broke in and demanded you take my resume. You saw my uniform, you knew I already had a job... So, why did you hire me?" I demand.

The guy, whose name I still don't know, jumps to his feet and chuckles awkwardly, "Uh, I'm gonna go. I'll see you later, dude."

Austin doesn't even glance at him, and stays quiet. The door makes a soft click as it closes, and I'm suddenly all too aware of how ridiculous I'm being. I shift nervously, feeling stupid and unsure of everything. I barged in here and demanded to know why my boss hired me.

This guy is making me crazy.

"I'm sorry," I rush out, "I don't know what I-"

Austin clears his throat and straightens up, his six foot frame towering over me. "I hired you because you deserve the job. I already told you, your references were impressive. Your first night here you cashed out a majority of the customers with no problem and even fended off a frat boy drunk off his ass. I wouldn't have give you this job if you didn't deserve it."

His intense gaze and deep tone leave me speechless, and if possible, even more confused. I'm floored by how sure of himself he sounded. No one has ever sounded so sure when it comes to me.

"The schedule," I pause, "why... why do I have so many hours? I've only been here a week. The others deserve those hours too."

"I thought you'd be happy about that," he says.

Immediately, I'm defensive. "Happy? I don't need a hand out."

Austin furrows his brows and lets out a raspy laugh. "A hand out? I don't know why you're working two jobs, so yeah this might help you out, but I already told you-"

A knock at the door cuts him off. Tentatively, Kaia pokes her head through the door and gives us a sheepish look.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt, but Aria, we need you on the floor," she gushes.

I clear my throat and shake my head, "No yeah, I'm sorry. I'll be right out."

She shoots us a thumbs-up and encases us in silence as the door clicks closed again.

"I'm sorry," I say again.

I turn to walk away, but stop when Austin's deep voice rings out around the room. "Stay behind after your shift. Let me drive you home. Please."

And I don't know what compels me to agree, but I do.

——

After I leave Austin's office, I'm on edge for the entirety of my shift. I don't let it affect my work, but my mind races with thoughts of Austin the entire time I serve drinks, wipe tables, and cash out customers.

I think about how adamant I was last week when I declined a ride from Austin. I was so sure I would keep my distance from him and just do my job. Letting Austin get close is bound to get messy, but right now all I can think about is the way he looks at me and the attraction I feel towards him.

It's nearing 3AM, and I'm alone and placing barstools on freshly cleaned tabletops when Austin descends the winding staircase. His eyes immediately land on mine, and my heart stutters at the intensity of his gaze.

He looks at me like he wants to know everything about me, and that scares me to death.

"You ready?" he asks.

I rake my eyes over his tall frame, admiring his beautiful tattoos and the way his dark t-shirt and tight jeans cling to his frame.

I fumble with the ties of my apron as he walks towards me. "Yeah, I've just gotta grab my stuff," I mumble.

His hand reaches out and I freeze. I literally stop breathing as he steps behind me and deftly unties the stubborn knot.

"I'm in the black Jeep out back. I'll wait for you," he says.

I nod, quiet as he places a set of keys on the table in front of me and walks away.

When he steps outside and the side entrance door closes firmly behind him, I finally feel like I can breathe again. I snatch up the keys, step behind the bar to clock out, and grab my purse.

I flip the switch beside the door, encasing the room in an eerie darkness, and exit the building, quickly locking the door behind me.

The employee parking lot is dark and empty, except for Austin's black Jeep that sits idly in the lot. I reluctantly walk towards the vehicle, nervous yet excited to be in such a small space with a man like Austin.

A man that you don't deserve, I bitterly think to myself.

Austin's car smells like him. Leather with a hint of cinnamon. It smells good, home-y. Pop music from a local station plays quietly from the speakers, and his eyes watch me intently as I place my purse and apron at my feet and buckle up.

I recite my address to him and sit quietly as he types it into his GPS, puts the car in reverse, and pulls out of the lot.

The silence isn't awkward, but it doesn't last long anyway before he asks, "How was your shift tonight?"

I nervously fiddle with the hem of my black denim skirt and stare pointedly at my lap.

"It was fine. Hectic."

Austin quietly clears his throat. "Did you work at RJ's this morning?"

"Yep."

"Do you have to work at RJ's tomorrow, too?"

"Yep," I say again.

"Will the extra shifts be too much for you?" he asks quietly.

I hesitate before answering.

"It's fine," I tell him. I finally brave a peek at the windshield, realizing that we're a few blocks away from my house.

"Aria," he rasps quietly, "I don't know why you're working two jobs," he pauses, "but be careful. Don't work yourself too hard."

I swallow harshly and say, "It's fine. I'm used to it."

He makes a small sound of disagreement, but doesn't say anything else. We're both quiet as he pulls onto my street and I point out which house is mine.

I avoid eye contact as he pulls up to the curb, and busy myself with unfastening my seatbelt and gathering my stuff.

"Thank you for the ride," I rush, reaching for the door handle.

"Aria,"

I stop and slowly turn to face him. I raise an eyebrow and try to act nonchalant and unbothered by his probing gaze.

"You deserve to work at Vice," he rasps.

I don't know what to say, so I just nod. I glance away and quietly clear my throat.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Austin."

And then I push open his car door and try not to look back as he waits for me to get inside.

I don't deserve a guy like him.

——