I'm lost in my thoughts as I walk to work. The usual humid Memphis air is still dry, but a gentle breeze begins to pick up as the sun starts to set, and it feels nice on my skin.

Tonight's my first night back since Austin's suggestion to take off for a few days. The break was nice, but I'm looking forward to getting back to work and settling back into my routine.

And Austin. I'm really looking forward to seeing him.

When I'm a block away from Vice, Savannah's juvenile advice rings through my head.

"Go up to his office and ask him to get dinner with you sometime. It's not that big a deal," she reasons.

"Easy for you to say. If he says no, work would be awkward as hell. I don't know, Sav. Is he worth the trouble that could bring?"

"You tell me," she says.

I'm torn. Never have I let a guy intertwine with my life so seamlessly before. Talking to him feels natural. He's witty, and charming, and caring, and the shit show we put on for him at the hospital didn't seem to deter him once.

Maybe he is worth it, I think to myself.

Only one way to find out.

After mentally hyping myself up and deciding that I'll speak to him before my shift starts, a mix of disappointment and relief floods me when I walk through the side entrance and am immediately swept into the task of getting the main level floor set up for tonight.

Apparently, five minutes before I got here, Lucas was fired.

Honestly, that doesn't surprise me one bit. Dropping cases of bottled beer three times a week doesn't really sit well with the boss. I am surprised, however, that Austin would fire him right before a shift on one of the busiest nights of the week.

"I've never seen him that angry before," Kaia says, stacking bottles of alcohol on the shelf behind the bar.

"Lucas?" I ask, breaking down the cardboard box she hands over.

"No, Austin. He was pissed," she whistles lowly.

"He was pissed the moment he walked through the door," Wyatt mutters from beside me.

I furrow my eyebrows in concern. "That doesn't sound like him. Should we see if he's okay?"

"No," Wyatt says immediately, "Probably best to stay out of the line of fire. I've only seen that guy get angry a handful of times that I've worked for him. Don't risk your job too."

I don't respond, and instead shoot a weary glance towards the winding staircase towards our right. Once again, I'm torn, but I decide against going to talk to him, wanting to give him a while to cool down.

After taking the cardboard boxes to the recycling bin out back, I pull my phone from my back pocket and check the time. The doors open in twenty minutes.

I let out a breath and go to pull the door open, but it swings open as I reach for it. I stumble back just in time, eyes wide as Austin storms out.

"Hey," I say cautiously.

Austin's head snaps towards me, almost as if he didn't even know he almost plowed me over. He visibly relaxes and leans against the side of the building, sighing heavily.

"Hey," he says gruffly.

I shift uneasily, unsure of whether to stay and talk to him or go inside. I know I need to be inside, getting ready to accommodate the crowd that will be eagerly awaiting drinks; but I can't help but want a few minutes alone with him. His eyes are on me, and that damn stare. His eyes are a darker blue than usual, and his brows are furrowed in annoyance, but his intense gaze holds me in place.

"Everything okay?" I ask cautiously.

I'm taken aback when he lets out a harsh laugh and roughly runs his palms across his face in aggravation.

His jaw ticks in annoyance. "I fucking wish."

I go to take a step towards him, but he abruptly pushes off the the side of the building and fumbles for something in the back pocket of his jeans. I stop in my tracks and watch as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

The sight of him nonchalantly lighting a cigarette and leaning back against the building, looking both pissed and defeated, unnerves me. It's so.. not him.

And then, I remember something. The night he drove me home from the hospital runs through my mind.

"I have too much going on. I'm tired."

"I understand," he says gently.

"You do?" I ask.

He drops his head against the headrest and sighs. Looking over at me with a glint in his eye that I can't quite figure out, he quietly says, "More than you'd think."

I clear my throat. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Austin opens his mouth to respond, but stops himself. After a moment of silence, he says, "You should get in there. Gonna be a busy night."

And then he tosses his cigarette to the side, pulls open the door, and walks away.

——

Hours after Austin's blatant dismissal, my mind is still reeling. I have to remind myself that I have no reason to be pissed. Or hurt. I'm not his girlfriend.

Am I even his friend? Does he consider me one?

See? I think to myself, This is exactly why you shouldn't get involved with him.

Annoyed at both Austin and myself, and too caught up in my thoughts, I don't notice that I've ran into someone until it's too late. We collide harshly, and the beers I'm supposed to be taking to a table a few feet away slosh over and splash onto the victim's, unfortunately white, shirt.

"Shit," I mutter, "I am so-"

"The fuck?" the man bellows.

"Fuck," I murmur. I go to step around him, wanting to take the beers to the customers who ordered them before I handle our current situation, but the man reaches out and harshly grips my wrist.

"You wanna say sorry for not watching where the fuck you're going?" he snarls. His eyes are dark and wild, and his breath reeks.

Annoyed more than anything, I shoot him a glare and attempt to step back. We're in the middle of the floor, tables of oblivious customers surrounding us.

I straighten my back and attempt to reason with him. "Look, I'm sorry. Let me get you a drink, on the house."

The tall asshat with an iron grip on my arm lets out a loud, mocking laugh. "And that's supposed to make it okay? Spoiled bitch. How 'bout I pour one of these down your shirt and see how you like it?"

"Excuse me?" I snap. "I think you're exaggerating. You can buy a Tide to-go stick from the convenience store around the corner and get the fuck out of my face."

"You fucking-"

"Is there a problem here?" Austin's voice snaps from behind me.

How the hell does he always manage to come to my rescue?

"Who the fuck are you? Mind your business," the asshole who, might I remind you, still has my arm in his.

Austin walks around me and swiftly yanks both beers from my hands. Setting them on a table behind him, he walks closer to the asshole, towering over him. "The manager. You mind taking your hands off her?"

Asshole lets out another laugh. "What, you gonna kick me out?"

"Should I? Or are you gonna go willingly?" Austin asks.

Asshole squeezes my wrist, causing me to flinch and pull backwards.

"Alright," Austin sighs loudly. Looking past me, he jerks his chin, and before I can blink, the beefy bald guy who usually stands guard out front, walks forward and roughly shoves the asshole backwards.

The force knocks the guy off balance, and he finally lets go of my arm. I bring it to my chest, lightly running my fingertips over tender spot.

Austin leans down and speaks directly in my ear. "Come on."

I look up in confusion, but follow him to the staircase. He pauses just before the first step, says something to Kaia who's passing by with two daiquiris in hand, and looks at me briefly before heading upstairs.

I follow behind him slowly, keeping my distance. When we reach his office, he gives me another brief glance before unlocking the door and pushing it open.

I'm silent as I take a seat in front of his desk. Walking around me, he throws his keys on the desk and leans against it, facing me.

I avoid his gaze, eyes locked on my sore wrist. After a moment of silence, I clear my throat and say, "I was handling it."

A beat of silence passes.

Finally, he says, "Were you?"

I look up at him and narrow my eyes. "Yes. I can take care of myself."

He lets out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, you like reminding me of that fact."

"What is your problem?" I snap. "Why are you being an asshole?"

He doesn't answer.

Pissed, I shove my chair back and stand.

Austin straightens up and steps in front of me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be taking my anger out on you."

I roll my eyes. "No shit."

"I'm sorry," he says again.

I look up at him and hold his gaze. "I believe you. Can I go now?"

I go to walk around him, but he holds an arm out and steps closer.

"Hey," he murmurs.

I freeze. Heart in my throat, I look up at him again. "What?"

"I really am sorry," he murmurs. "I've been a dick all night."

"I know."

He smirks at that. "I'll be better tomorrow."

"Good."

"I'm glad you're back."

I pause before answering. "Me too," I say honestly.

He opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. "I should get back to work."

Austin sighs and steps to the side. "Yeah."

I pause at the door, one hand on the door knob. I look over my shoulder and say, "Thank you for getting rid of that guy."

He clenches his jaw. "Yeah," he says again.

Not wanting to leave, even though I know I should, I turn around and face him.

"Do you have cameras out there or something?" I blurt out.

Austin smirks. "Yeah."

I nod awkwardly, feeling stupid. "Right."

I open the door, and before I can walk out, Austin asks, "Can I drive you home tonight?"

I have to force myself not to grin like an idiot. Instead I steal his line, and simply say, "Yeah."

His smirk is the last thing I see before I abruptly close his office door and rush downstairs with flushed cheeks and a racing heart.

——

Two hours later, the familiar smell of cinnamon invades my senses.

"I didn't know you smoked," I say casually.

Austin looks over at me briefly before returning his gaze to the windshield. "I don't," he admits. "I quit awhile ago, but.. when I'm stressed, it's hard not to pick one up."

"Both of my parents smoke. They have since I was little," I admit.

Immediately, I regret bringing them up. I don't even know why I did; it just kind of came up.

He looks over at me, a knowing glint in his eye. "It's a hard habit to break."

I nod and cast my gaze towards the window. I furrow my eyebrows.

"You passed my street," I tell him.

"I know," he says, smirking.

I raise an eyebrow. "Are you gonna turn around?"

"I'm hungry," he says casually.

"Okay?" I ask, confused. "What does that-"

And then he pulls into a nearly deserted parking lot of a Waffle House. Peering through the window, I see that there's only one person dining in—an old man, nursing a cup of coffee.

Austin cuts the ignition and opens his door. "You coming?"

Well, shit.

——

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