"So tell me again why you're going out tonight?" Will asked, crossing his arms, and frowning at me.

"I'm just going somewhere with a friend," I lied, unable to stop my anxious pacing near the door. "Just for some fun."

"Uh-huh," Will responded in tone that led me to think he didn't believe me. "Is that why you're pacing in front of the door way? Because your excited?"

"Yep."

Will rolled his eyes. "Harley, I've known you for almost a year now. I know you have a habit of pacing only when you're really nervous about something."

Of course. Leave it to Will to keep an eye on the most random habits I have. "I'm just nervous because it's my first time going out with actual friends in almost a year."

"You go out with me all the time!"

"You don't count. You're like a dad that likes to force his little girl to go everywhere with him so he can show her off."

Will gasped, looking at me with bright eyes. "You think of me as your father?"

"No," I responded, rolling my eyes.

"Mother?"

"No."

"Husband?"

I sighed. "Go play videogames with Elliot, Will. I swear sometimes you act like your five not twenty-seven."

"I'm just worried, Harley," Will pointed out, frowning again. "Why won't you tell me where you're going?"

"Because I don't know," I admitted truthfully. "It's going to be a... surprise."

Will didn't seem to like that idea. "Who are you going with again? Do you have your cell phone? When will you be back?"

"Friends, yes, I don't know."

"Thanks for not being vague, Harley."

I pursed my lips at him. "Listen, I'll call you when I know where I'm going. Is that good enough for you, dad?"

"You called me dad!" Will cried overdramatically.

Before I could respond to his stupidity, there were three, consecutive, brief knocks on my door. Will sobered up immediately, going forward to open the door before I even had a chance to move towards it. He opened it up and there stood Oliver, a blank expression on his face. When he realized it was Will at the door and not me, he narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Who are you?"

"Will. Who are you?"

Oliver ignored his question. "Does Harley Allen live here?"

"Why do you want to know?" Will responded, crossing his arms again.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "I'm here to pick her up. Does she live here or not?"

"I do," I interjected before Will could speak up again. "This is Will," I added for good measure.

"Pleasure to meet you," Oliver said in a bored tone, his eyes give Will an once-over.

I gave Oliver a flat look before turning to Will. "This is Oliver. He's a... friend."

Will's expression showed he didn't seem pleased with Oliver's first impression, but he kept his comments to himself. Oliver gave me an impatient look and I scowled at him before stepping around Will and out into the hallway.

"What time will she be back?" Will asked Oliver.

Oliver shrugged. "I don't know."

"I'll call you when I know for sure," I assured Will before he could respond to Oliver. "We're going to leave now..."

"Have fun," Will told me, but the feeling his words gave us felt more like he was saying, "Be careful."

"I'll try," I muttered, glancing at Oliver, who looked bored again. "Keep Elliot busy. He's had a lot of sugar today and I'm afraid of what he might do..."

Will grinned. "Gotcha."

"Let's go or we'll be late," Oliver snapped, sounding irritated.

Will's eyes narrowed at him, and I sighed. "Right. Talk to you soon, Will."

"Bye, Harley."

Abruptly, Oliver started walking down the hall that led to the outside. Will gave me a worried look but I held up my hand and half-smiled at him before hurrying to catch up with Oliver. The chilly October air bit at my cheeks as I followed Oliver through the dark apartment parking lot. He stopped at a very fancy looking car and gestured for me to go around to the other side. I did as he indicated and opened the passenger's door, surprised to find it unlocked.

"You should really lock your doors around here," I warned Oliver when we were both seated in the car.

"I was only going in to get you; there was no need, stupid."

I clenched my teeth. "Don't call me stupid."

Oliver smirked at me. "Why not, stupid?"

"Because I don't like it!"

"Too bad."

Oliver started the car and slammed it into reverse, peeling out of the parking lot. My eyes flew wide in surprise, and I quickly gripped onto the dashboard for safety. "Oliver! What the heck?"

"What?"

"Slow down!" I commanded, glancing at his speedometer. "Did you even look before you pulled out?"

Oliver rolled his eyes at me. "We're fine."

"You're going twenty over the speed limit! It's not fine!"

"Why are you such a stickler for driving?"

"Because! This is dangerous! I don't want to die like-" I cut myself off there, clasping a hand over my mouth.

Oliver glanced at me, an eyebrow raised. "Like?"

"Keep your eyes on the road," I snapped, admonishing myself silently for almost slipping up.

"What were you going to say?"

"Nothing, Oliver."

"You know, you're not teacher like at all," Oliver commented with a smirk.

I frowned at him. "When I'm with you, I don't need to act like a teacher since you know my secret. Besides, the school day is over now. I'm done being a teacher for the day."

"Right," Oliver agreed. "You're onto bigger and better things now. Do you have any experience being a waitress?"

"What?"

"A waitress," Oliver reiterated. "You know, someone who-"

"I know what they are," I interrupted. "Why do you want to know?"

Oliver shrugged. "I'm curious."

Yeah, I'm sure that was the only reason. Not. After a moment of debating whether to ignore his question or not, I finally sighed and gave in. "Sort of. I used to work in a bakery and I'd take orders sometimes."

Oliver nodded. "Good."

I wanted to ask him why he wanted to know, but I knew he wouldn't tell me, so I didn't bother. Silence fell between us, so I turned my attention out my window. Darkness filled my vision as blurred, dark shapes whizzed by. A little while later, I began to see buildings I recognized and realized we were heading towards the downtown area. My thoughts were proven right when Oliver pulled onto the street that led to the main road in the down town area.

"Where are we going?" I asked curiously, still staring out the window.

"You'll see in about five seconds."

A frown made its' way onto my face as I turned to look at Oliver. He was smirking, looking straight ahead. I followed his gaze and saw a large sign that read "McDonald's".

"You've got to be kidding me..."

Oliver suddenly took a sharp left, making me smack my face against the window. Darkness consumed the car as he drove through a dark ally way, going away from the McDonald's. It made me feel better to know I wouldn't be helping him at a fast food restaurant. I hated those places.

However, what Oliver drove up to next made me have second thoughts about working at the fast food restaurant. At first I thought it was a joke, but when Oliver cut the engine, I knew it wasn't. Oliver caught me gawking and smirked at me.

"Think this will be to your liking?"

I stared at him, startled. "You seriously work here?"

"No, I just park here and walk to Subway every day," Oliver responded in a sarcastic tone.

"You can't work here! You're too young!"

"You're too young to be a teacher," Oliver mentioned. "And yet you still are."

"But this is a bar, Oliver!"

"It's a tavern, stupid," he corrected me.

I shook my head in disbelief. Oliver had to be kidding me! He worked at a bar? And he wanted me to help him work here? We were both too young to consume alcohol, let alone work with it!

"Get out of the car," Oliver ordered, opening his door. "If we don't hurry we'll be late."

"But you can't-"

"Shut up and just get out of the car."

Biting back any retorts, I unsnapped my seat buckle before climbing out of the car. I slammed the door with more force than necessary, making Oliver scowl at me. A click sounded as Oliver locked the doors. He then started making his way towards the entrance of the tavern. After a moment of hesitation, I scurried after him. Being out here alone was definitely not smart, or safe.

When I entered through the tavern's doors a delicious scent enveloped my nose. I couldn't quite place what it was, but the smell was pleasant and it made my stomach growl. Oliver led me through the crowded bar where men and woman sat around drinking, eating, and laughing. As we walked by, some of them greeted Oliver. Mostly the women.

"You working tonight, darling?" one of the women cooed, a bright smile on her face.

Oliver smiled at her politely, making me do a double take. Since when did Oliver smile? "Not tonight. I have to train the dog."

Dog? I scowled at Oliver.

The woman's eyes slid over to me and she smirked slightly. "Is she even old enough to work here?"

Oliver shrugged. "Whether she is or not doesn't matter. She's here to help me."

"Ah," the woman responded, looking me over once again. "Have fun."

"Let's go," Oliver ordered before I could respond to the woman.

He started walking around the bar and to a large, oak door, and went through it. I followed cautiously, feeling a few people from the bar still staring at me. How young did they think I was? Behind the oak door was a small hallway that had four different doors in it. Oliver took the furthest left one, and I followed him through it. My guess was that the room we entered was some sort of worker's lounge, because there were lockers, a large table with chairs surrounding it, a few vending machines, a television, and two, leather couches.

A man who looked strikingly like Oliver, but a little older, raised an eyebrow at us when we entered. "Oliver, you brought a friend?" For a second I stared at him in shock. His accent was heavier than Oliver's!

"She's our new help," Oliver responded in a bored tone.

The Oliver look alike appraised me with eyes for a moment. I smiled at him to be polite. Finally he smiled back, putting out a hand for me to shake. "Hello, I'm Anthony."

"Nice to meet you," I responded, placing my hand in his. "I'm Harley."

"Good to meet you too, Harley!"

Anthony gripped my hand firmly and shook it up and down. It felt like he was crushing my fingers. I pressed my lips tightly, trying not to show any sign of pain. Finally he let go and my hand dropped to my side, throbbing. Talk about firm grip.

"Are you Oliver's brother?" I asked curiously.

Oliver snorted while Anthony laughed and beamed at me. He glanced at Oliver, a grin on his face. "I like her already."

"Yay," Oliver replied sarcastically.

Anthony rolled his eyes before turning back from me. "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm Oliver's father."

I looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Really."

"How old are you?" I asked without thinking. When I realized what I asked, I felt my face heat up slightly. "Um, sorry. That was rude..."

Anthony laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'm actually thirty-eight. How old do you think I look?"

"Fifty," Oliver muttered before I could reply.

"I don't know, just young," I responded, frowning at Oliver.

"Well thank you," Anthony responded with a grin. "How old are you?"

"Uhh..." I shot a glance at Oliver. How old was I supposed to tell him I was? Seventeen? Or twenty-one?

"She's seventeen," Oliver told Anthony for me, surprising me.

"Seventeen?" Anthony repeated, frowning the slightest bit. "Oliver-"

"Look, you told me to find help, and I did," Oliver snapped, cutting his father off. "She'll have to do until I find someone else."

Anthony sighed. "You're right." He turned back to me. "Do you mind helping out in a bar? You won't be handling the alcohol, you'll just be a waitress and do some cashiering."

"I'm here to help," I told him with a smile. Albeit, I was blackmailed into it...

"So you're taking the place of Rebecca, right? Tuesdays, Thursdays, and every other weekend?"

"Every other weekend?" I repeated, glancing at Oliver.

Anthony frowned slightly, giving me a pleading look. "Is that okay? I wouldn't ask this of you, but we are already short on staff, and weekends are always really busy so-"

"No, it's fine," I assured him; unable to deny him with the look he was giving me. "It won't be a problem."

"Great!" he responded, looking excite again. He kind of reminded me of a puppy.

Oliver cleared his throat, glaring at his father. "If you're done talking, we have some training to do."

"Go right ahead," Anthony responded, holding up his hand. "I've got to go find your mom-"

"Step mom," Oliver corrected in a harsh tone.

"Right, step-mom... I'll be going now. See you around, Harley," Anthony said to me, looking depressed again.

I half-smiled at him. "Bye, Anthony."

As soon as Anthony was out of the room I scowled at Oliver. He raised an eyebrow at me. "What?"

"Don't you think you're a little rude to your dad?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "I don't really care."

"You should!"

"Why?"

"Because he's your family!"

"I could care less about family," Oliver snapped. "All my family does is get on my nerves."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You know, someone people don't even have families."

"Lucky them."

"What? Oliver you don't-"

Oliver cut me off. "Look, I don't care if you think family is the most important thing. You can go ahead and live happily with your mum and dad. Not all families are perfect. My family isn't, and it's none of your business, so stay out of it."

I stared at Oliver in surprise, taken aback by his sudden out burst. Apparently family wasn't a touchy subject only for me. Guilt replaced my surprise and I lowered my gaze to the floor, taking in his words. "You know, you never know what you have until it's gone..."

"And how would you know that?"

My eyes snapped up to his face again and I found he was scowling at me. "I just do."

"Don't talk about things you don't have any idea about," Oliver rejoined.

Things I don't have any idea about? Obviously I did, since both of my parents were dead! But he doesn't know that, I reminded myself begrudgingly. Nonetheless, he should assume things without knowing the facts! I clenched my teeth together angrily. He really knew how to grind my gears.

"Let's just get started," I told him through gritted teeth. "Before one of us kills the other."

"Fine by me," Oliver agreed, turning his back to me. "Follow me."

I did as he commanded and followed him through another door in the employee lounge, which led to what seemed to be a supply closet. Oliver went to one of the shelves and pulled down a large box, placing it on the floor. He opened it and searched through it for a few moments before pulling out a black and white apron, tossing it at me.

"Keep that. You won't need it tonight, but wear it on Tuesday," he ordered. "I assume you know how to take orders?"

"Yes."

"Good, that saves me time. What about the cash register?"

I pursed my lips. "It depends on what kind of cash register it is..."

Oliver looked at me curiously. "Aren't they all the same?"

"No," I told him with a small laugh. "Are you kidding me? There are so many different types of cash registers. I've probably used ten different ones in all my jobs."

"How many jobs have you had?"

I shrugged. "Six or seven."

"And you're only seventeen?"

"Are you trying to make a point?"

Oliver scowled at me. "No, I'm just curious as to why you've had so many jobs."

I hesitated for a moment, before answering. "Family issues..."

"How's your little brother? Elliot?"

"He's good," I responded slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you asking?"

If my eyes weren't tricking me, Oliver looked embarrassed. "No reason," he finally muttered. "I was just wondering."

"Aw, do you like little kids, Oli?" I asked teasingly.

"Don't call me that," Oliver snapped, glaring at me once more.

"Why not? Don't like it, Oli?"

"No, I don't. Now cut it."

"Whatever you say, Oli."

"Don't be a prat," he growled, pushing by me. "Let's go to the cash register."

A smirk flittered onto my face as I turned and followed Oliver back to the main hallway. Instead of going back out into the crowded bar area, he took a door that led to behind the bar. A few workers gave me curious looks, and I smiled in response to them. Oliver greeted a few of them politely before stopping to make sure I was still following him.

When we made it to the cash register, he gave me a ten-minute lesson on how to run it because it was a model I hadn't used before. The way he explained it made me feel like I was seven instead of seventeen. His tone of voice really got on my nerves.

"What's this button?" I asked, pointing to a large red button. "Can I press it?"

Oliver quickly snatched my outreached hand. "No," he snapped. "Are you stupid? Wait, that's a rhetorical question."

"Haha."

"You only press that button if there's a robbery or something that you need the police for," he told me seriously. "Red means danger."

"Has there been a robbery here before?"

Oliver shrugged. "Once or twice."

Boy, did that make me feel safe. At least there was a handy, red button I could press to make my life easier. "Grand. Are we done here?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"Why not?"

"Part of training is practice," he told me, rolling his eyes. "I have to supervise you cashiering to make sure you're capable."

I sighed. "Fine."

"About your work days, only come on those days," Oliver said suddenly. "Even if my father wants you to come in on a different day."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"You're not the owner," I responded just to irritate him. "If he needs me to work then-"

"You're not going in," Oliver interjected, glowering me.

I scowled back at him. "Maybe I won't if you tell me why!"

"None of your business."

"Ugh, you're so irritating! You're the one who wants me to help out!"

"And I know your secret. It's a fair trade."

"I wouldn't consider this a trade."

Oliver narrowed his eyes at me. "You know, you're a lot different out of school than you are in."

"Same with you," I retorted. "You talk too much."

Oliver scowled at me again before glancing behind me, the scowl immediately dropping. "Here comes a customer. Be courteous. Do you know what that means, stupid?"

"It means you're annoying and need to shut up," I snapped. I wasn't sure if I could work with Oliver two times a week without turning into the most spiteful person in the world. It hadn't even been an hour and I was already cranky.

It was going to be one, long, irritating night.

I turned to greet the customer, and when my eyes fell upon the person, they widened significantly. Out of all the people in the world, he was the one person I would least expect to see at a bar. And I had a feeling I was in a lot of trouble.

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