Vice is, not surprisingly, packed as usual.

I've taken to manning the floor more than usual tonight rather than cashing customers out from behind the bar, my nerves and every sense in my body on high alert and needing movement to keep me distracted.

More times than not my eyes have reluctantly seemed out the spiral staircase that leads to Austin's office. Tonight is the first time in a long time that I caught a ride to work on my own, thinking it would be too weird to ask Austin for one. In all actuality, I know that Austin would drop everything in a heartbeat to help me out, all I have to do is ask, but that small part in my brain that fucking hates me and wants me to stay miserable tries it's best to tell me I'm a burden to him.

It's only been three days since pushing the brakes on my relationship, and two since my mom walked out the door for good. With Savannah holed up in her room studying for classes and prepping for state exams, the quiet and stillness in the house has lulled me into a state of wanting to pull my fucking hair out.

Hence the reason why I finally sucked it up and brushed off what I'm positive is only one-sided awkwardness on my end, and now I'm back at Vice for the night.

I weave through tables, my black cropped tank top riding up my midriff due to my hands that are raised above my head, balancing an array of colorful cocktails. Sweat glistens on my exposed skin and I mentally grimace when I feel a tiny bead roll down my cleavage in between my breasts.

I swoop past a drunk college girl flailing around the dance floor and screaming the lyrics to an Usher song and deposit the tray onto a table occupied by three different drunk college girls. Before I can even take the glasses off the tray they squeal and reach for them, leaving a wad of cash on the empty tray in return. I shrug and slip it into the apron at my waist.

On my way back to the front bar my gaze skitters to one of the cameras in the corner wondering if Austin is sitting at his desk, watching.

"Ugh," I groan, stepping around the counter and smacking the tray down.

"Bad tippers?" Kaia asks as she shakes a tumbler of mixed alcohol.

Instead of confessing that in reality I'm just a pathetic, self-deprecating girl who wants to maul her boyfriend—ex?— but can't because they're on a break, I simply mutter, "Something like that," and grab a dish towel to mindlessly wipe at the counters.

Who's idea was it to take a break anyway?

Yours, genius.

Oh yeah.

All for the greater good, I mentally remind myself.

"Wanna go ahead and take your break? Crowd's dimming down so you're free to do whatever for the next twenty," Kaia chirps, pouring drinks into glasses.

I look out warily at the so-called dimmed down crowd. I raise a brow and ask, "You sure?"

"Yep," She confirms. "We'll switch out and I'll take mine after you come back? I don't trust the new girl not to steal my regulars," She finishes, scowling in the direction of the pale redhead across the room.

I smile, amused. "I got you. See you in twenty."

I round the bar and sidestep the bustling crowd at the high top tables near the back entrance and quickly slip outside. The brisk wind sends a cool shiver through my body, chilling my flustered skin. With November quickly approaching, it's only gonna get colder.

Rounding the corner to the back alley, I dig my phone out of my apron and check for any missed messages or calls from Savannah. I glance up when I hear low voices and falter in my tracks when I see one of the bus guys sitting on an overturned bucket. Austin stands in front of him and brings a lit cigarette from his lips, passing it to the guy.

"Ohhhh shit," He says, taking the cigarette. "Sorry bout that boss. Know your girl doesn't like it."

"All good, Andre," Austin murmurs. Andre takes one last puff and throws it to the cement, stuffing it out with his boot before standing. He gives me a sheepish chin nod and scurries around the corner, out of sight.

I look at Austin, my brow raised. He leans a shoulder against the brick building, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. A smirk tugs at his lips. "Busted," He murmurs as I walk closer.

"Bad day?" I ask, remembering the last time I found him leaned against this building with a cigarette between his lips.

He shakes his head, his smirk growing wider when I copy his stance. We stand facing each other, the alley quiet sans for the heavy thumping of the music reverberating from the building.

I purse my lips. "Stressed?"

He brushes a hand across his smirking mouth. "Frustrated," He says.

My forehead wrinkles in concern. "Is everything okay?"

Austin glances over my shoulder, and before I can blink, steps forward and cages me against the brick wall. My heart races, my eyes fluttering closed. Tattooed arms brace on either side of my head as the familiar smell of cinnamon wafts between us. "It is now," He murmurs.

He brings one hand down and braces it against my hip. He squeezes gently before sliding it down over the fabric of my black faux leather skirt. My breath catches as he slips a calloused hand beneath the leather and cups the back of my thigh. His thumb brushes upward, caressing the lace of my panties. "How many hands tried to roam underneath this skirt tonight?" He rasps.

I swallow harshly. "You tell me," I whisper.

Austin smirks and squeezes my thigh in warning. "Three," He growls lowly. My pulse flutters wildly as he brings his lips down on mine, harshly parting my lips with his tongue. I moan quietly as he roams my mouth, the faint hint of Marlboro mixed with spearmint on his breath. Oddly, it's intoxicating, even though I hate when he smokes.

I pull back, panting slightly. "I thought we were supposed to be on a break?" I murmur jerkily as he places open mouthed kisses on the side of my throat. And damn me, but I tilt my head slightly to the side to allow him better access.

I can feel the smirk in Austin's voice against my skin when he murmurs, "Who said that?"

"Austin," I mumble when his hands shove my skirt up my thighs. "We're outside-"

"We're alone," He states. He pulls back slightly and looks me in the eye, one hand grasping the back of my neck and the other poised at the hem of my underwear. "You trust me?"

I nod.

"Words, baby," He murmurs.

"Yes," I choke out as he slips a finger beneath the fabric.

"Over my left shoulder," He commands, swiping his middle finger through my wetness. I shudder. "Tell me what you see."

Through heavy-lidded eyes I glance in the direction he instructed, my stomach warming. "A camera," I moan lowly.

"Good girl," He murmurs, his middle finger moving to my opening. "Don't take your eyes off of it."

My body jerks against the wall, my bare shoulders scraping against the brick as he enters two fingers inside of me. I gasp, my head falling backwards slightly.

Austin's hand grips my chin and tilts it up. He drops his lips to my ear, his stubble grazing my cheek. "Look at the camera. I wanna see you come apart over and over again when I have to go back up to my office without you."

"Austin," I moan as he applies pressure on my throbbing bundle of nerves. He nips at my throat, sucking gently. "I'm respecting what you asked for baby," He murmurs, never missing a beat with the movement of his fingers. "The distance. But that doesn't mean I like it."

"I'm sorry," I stutter as I arch my back, my gaze locked on the black lens of the camera right above us. I watch the steady flash of the red light in the center, my stomach clenching as I realize that it's catching my pleasure in real time. Knowing that only Austin will see it, because there's no damn way he'd ever let anyone else get his hands on it.

"When the time comes that you're ready to come back to me, this is what's gonna be waiting for you. You know that, don't you? Know I'm always gonna be waiting for you."

I cry out as Austin's hips suddenly rut forward, his denim covered stiffness crushing his hand between his pelvis and mine. "Come, baby," He orders.

My hands grip his forearm, my nails raking across the corded veins before dropping down to his wrist. Austin's lips drop to mine, muffling the low moan that rips from my lips as heat unfurls below my waist. He breaks away, panting as his fingers slip out, softly brushing upwards through my slick heat. I whimper quietly, nearly coming undone when he slips his hand from my panties and brushes his fingers against my lips.

"I think your break's over," He murmurs, smirking. I gasp and reach forward, pinching his nipple through the fabric of his black t-shirt.

Austin laughs and helps me fix my skirt, playfully running his hand over the front of my underwear. Slapping a hand against his chest, I push him backwards, my gaze slipping to the front of his jeans.

"Looks like you've got a little problem there," I tip my chin down.

His eyes flash with lust. "Watch it, baby. I'll extend that break and drag you out to the Jeep faster than you can blink."

I sigh and murmur, "I miss the Jeep."

"Got a front seat with your name on it. Whenever you're ready," He says quietly.

I step forward and kiss his cheek. "Soon." I step around him and start walking towards the back entrance.

"Aria," He calls out lowly. I stop and look at him from over my shoulder. He gives me a knowing look. "We're not on a break."

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. "Okay," And before I open the door I call back, "And stop sneaking cigarettes!"

His deep laugh follows after me until the door firmly slams shut.

——

The community resource center is dead silent when I walk through the front doors. I cautiously approach the front desk, nearly jumping out of my skin when a heavy-set woman yanks open the sliding glass window. She snaps her gum. "What can I do for ya, hun?"

"Um, I'm here for the counseling services? I was told I qualified for a grant that would allow me free sessions with a therapist for free since I'm, uh, low-income," I say.

The woman hums and reaches beneath her, pulling a clipboard from a filing cabinet. Her hair falls to the side and reveals a name tag that reads Krista. Krista slides the clipboard through the window and pulls a pen with a big faux sunflower on it, passing it to me. "Fill that out for me, hun."

I take a seat in one of the uncomfortable padded chairs across from the front desk and glance down at the paperwork.

Name. Birthdate. Social Security Number.

Primary doctor? Can't afford one.

Health insurance provider? I wish I had one.

Reason for visit? Mental health or behavioral services — Check all that apply.

I sloppily fill in the basics and skim down to a short questionnaire at the bottom.

Have you ever been diagnosed with mental illness?

Have you ever experienced suicidal or homicidal thoughts?

"Jesus, this is intimidating," I mutter.

Have you ever experienced a trauma of any kind? If so, please explain.

Nerves fill my gut and I hastily scrawl brief descriptions of growing up with addict parents, experiencing neglect, and living in poverty.

One by one, I continue filling out the answers to various mental health related questions before returning it to Krista up front. "Someone's gonna be out to see ya shortly, darlin'. Sit tight for me."

I scroll through my phone to distract myself from the many "Know the signs of 'Insert Mental Illness Here'" posters scattered around the room.

Pretty soon, a door to my left opens and a pretty woman with dark skin and intricately braided dreads walks towards me. "Are you Aria?" She asks, smiling gently.

"Yes ma'am," I say, standing.

She reaches out a hand and I gently shake it with mine. "It's nice to meet you, Aria. I'm Tierra, and I'm your new therapist. It sounds a bit more daunting than it is, trust me," She laughs. "If you follow me, we can head back to my office and get started."

I nod and follow behind her, my hands twisting in front of me nervously. I scan her mustard yellow dress and cute gold platform sandals, my body relaxing slightly. She seems nice, and that puts me at ease.

She leads me into an office that's painted a soft cream color with a fluffy rug and two leather wingback chairs in front of her desk. A tall lamp sits in the corner of the room, the dim lighting casting a comforting glow through the room. An array of degrees sit framed behind her, and when I glance to the right I see a window sill full of tiny succulents.

"So, Aria," She begins, taking a seat. I notice the clipboard that I filled out earlier sits on the desk in front of her. "I read a little bit through your intake form, but I also wanted to go over it together, if that's okay with you. I find that it's a good way of gaining a little insight from the client themselves rather than just reading it from my own perspective."

I nod and relax into the chair.

"So, would you mind telling me a little bit about your family dynamic? Who lives in your household?"

Exhaling slowly, I begin to prattle off the details about my living arrangement, as well as past living arrangements up until this point. I note how I work two jobs, and have since I was a teenager. Tierra asks me if I'm the sole provider in my house, and I say yes. When she asks, "What about when you were a teen?", a slight pressure builds up in my chest as I respond with the same answer.

I go into detail about witnessing arguments between my parents. My dad's drug use and my mom's alcoholism. How some nights I helped Savannah do her math or reading homework with a flashlight because mom forgot to pay the electricity bill, or when we would have to eat stale saltine crackers and canned spam for dinner because there was nothing else to eat.

"That's a lot of responsibility for a teenager. The weight of that responsibility weighs on you, and it's not yours to carry," She says gently.

I nod. "But it is now. Savannah has a job too, though. We both go in on the bills. But a lot of hers is going towards her college savings. I want her to get out of here and make something of herself."

Tierra tilts her head to the side in thought. "And what about you? What are your plans for after she leaves for university?"

My response is instant. "Work."

"You're allowed to have goals and aspirations too, Aria. There isn't just one route to take when it comes to getting an education or finding a career path. Society tells us that we have to follow a standard, traditional road that includes graduating high school and immediately going off to a four-year university. And those of us that don't go that route often feel as if we've failed."

"Aria," She continues. "If there's something that you want to do, you are completely in control of going for it. You've worked hard and set an amazing example for your sister. You carried the responsibility of being a parent to your parents when you shouldn't have had to. If you want something, you take it. You've earned that, Aria."

I blink, slowly digesting her words. I clear my throat and say, "Until recently, I never.. envisioned that for myself. More. I thought it wasn't in the cards for me. But I met someone who.. started to put the ideas into my head. That maybe I can do more. But.. it's hard breaking out of the shell that I'm so used to being in, ya know?

Tierra nods. "That's a completely normal reaction. Your trauma responses have made you believe that you shouldn't have more. But Aria, you are destined for so much more than raising your sibling or your parents. You did the best that you could with what you were given at the time. The things that you witnessed and experienced were not your fault. You were a child, and there's nothing more that you could have done."

To my surprise, tears start to prick at the backs of my eyes. Pressure begins to ease off of my chest.

"Sometimes I get this.. anxiety about the future. It's like I already have this portrait of what I think life is going to be like, and it usually isn't any better than what I've already been living. It makes my chest feel all tight and my pulse race. But, that phrase you said, that I'm destined for more? The thought of the future actually didn't make my chest hurt," I explain quietly.

"How did it make you feel?" She echoes.

"Excited," I say. "Relieved. Free."

——

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