Chapter 1: What Brings You to Town?
You're a bartender at the town's bar, QZone, and Abby Anderson, TikTok-famous gym girl, takes a special liking to you.
Your hands smoothed your hair back into a ponytail to keep the hair off your neck in an attempt to cool yourself off, though the rising temperature of the bar was making that nearly impossible. Your tank sat low on your chest, at least offering an open opportunity for air to brush its way across.
It was an especially busy night, though you were stationed at the downstairs bar, plagued with townie men who refused to tear their gaze from your chest. The writing across didn’t help– it drew their attention right to the spot, inviting and holding their eyes there.
But it drew in an ungodly amount of tips.
You busied yourself with orders, fighting off the rush of fatigue threatening at the edge of your brain. It had become increasingly difficult to sleep alone, smudged eyeliner essentially mixing with the bags under your eyes.
A body appeared next to you, Manny standing in all his glory. Despite his stupid tendencies to infuriate the bumbling, idiotic regulars who drank themselves to the point of passing out, he maintained a high profile in the bar, being noted as the favorite manager amongst the few.
He had taken a special liking to you on your first shift, narrowing his eyes at you and nodding in approval before clapping a hand on your back– “we’re going to get along great,” he had noted, much to your confused joy.
And that's where it all started. Manny would fend off the creeps that got too handsy, let you take longer breaks in the office on nights where it was too much while covering your ass, namely from Mel. God, she fucking hated you for no reason.
Unlike Manny, she had it out for you from day one. You were clueless as to why, which always earned a grumbling from Manny as he took a swig from his beer, muttering something about Owen’s past behavior with the female bartenders.
“If only she knew I was fucking gay, but she doesn’t even bother to speak to me,” you muttered one night, earning a snort from Manny as he toweled down the counter, shaking his head.
“Don’t blame her, honestly– she’s dating that fucking pendejo,” his voice broke into a sneer on the last word, earning a sharp laugh from you as you shook your head.
“Did that one to herself,” you nodded, earning a thoughtful look from Manny before he nodded in agreement.
Manny always had your back. And thank God he was working tonight.
The man who had been making your shifts an essential living hell was back, staring at you from the opposite side of the counter with a hungry look in his eye.
“I know,” you mutter back, shaking your head as you manage to uncork a bottle Manny had failed at, earning a frustrated huff of a sigh from him.
“Damn lesbians,” he mumbled, making a motion with his hands towards the bottle as you let out a laugh.
“Just that good with my hands, Man,” you tease, earning a sharp look from Manny.
“Don’t let the freaks hear that one. They’ll be using that line for months if they catch wind of it,” he noted, earning a groan from you as you slip the towel from your pocket, smacking his ass with the fabric in passing as you tend to the end of the counter.
You crack a smile as a familiar face appears. She grins as she catches sight of you, extending a hand across the counter, which you catch with your fingers, squeezing excitedly.
You shake your head, eyes rolling as you motion with your head over to the opposite side. Nora leans to the side, eyes narrowing before she settles back onto the stool she’s perched on.
“Fuckin’ creep is back, I see,” she mumbles, earning a nod from you as you prepare her usual, sliding it across without a word.
“Depends on what you mean,” you note, earning a defeated look from the woman.
It had already been four months, and yet you were still in shambles from Ellie up and leaving you entirely one night. She left behind a post-it note of an apology, along with an array of empty hangers and a gaping opening on her side of the bed.
She doesn’t press on, taking a sip of her drink and shooting Manny a wave as he passes, flipping her off in response.
“The fuck’s his deal tonight?”
“Who the fuck knows,” you mumble, lunging with your rag and managing to strike Manny on the backs of his thighs. He reels around, eyes ablaze as he points a finger at you before turning back to tend to the customer he had been tending to.
You freeze in your motion as you eye the figure in front of him, tucking the rag slowly back into your pocket and retreating back to the corner Nora had chosen for herself.
“You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Manny flash you or some shit?”
“Nothing. Just… nothing,” you trailed off, glancing over your shoulder to scan over the woman once more. Her eyes jump to you, quickly returning to Manny. It is nothing, you promise yourself.
You busied yourself with other customers, avoiding the man on the opposite side of the bar like the plague and keeping closer to Nora for some sense of comfort. It doesn’t help now that the woman’s eyes keep trailing on you, making your skin burn under her gaze.
She’s tall, so fucking tall, and Jesus Christ, she has some of the most insane muscles you’ve ever seen. Her skin is coated in freckles, in a wife-beater to show off as much skin as possible. Manny has already clocked it, the way you keep drifting closer to tend to the patrons that appear and vanish beside her as she remains through it all, trying to remain subtle as she watches you the whole time.
“I’m taking my fifteen, Angel,” Manny calls over his shoulder before ducking under the counter at the opening in the cabinets. You let out a stream of hot air between your teeth, trying to not let frustration bubble up in you towards him as he waves over the new hire from the back bar to take his spot.
“Do your best for Angel, won’t you?”
The kid looks terrified as he nods furiously, busying himself with shaking hands.
“You’re just barback, kid, I’m not expecting perfection from you,” you note, earning a nervous smile from him as he nods quickly, rushing off to refill the ice.
You turned to face the bar, and you’re suddenly faced with her. She looks at you with a slightly tilted head, smile picking at the edge of her lips. Jesus Christ.
“Refresh?” It’s the only thing you can manage out, motioning to her empty bottle. She nods as she holds up the empty glass container, sitting up straight to set it directly in front of you on the edge of the bar. Her long arm stretches over the space of the wood, muscles rippling in the simple motion. You grab the empty bottle, tossing it in the trash as you grab a new bottle, quickly working off the cap. Unlike her, you have to stand on your toes to push it across the counter, retreating back across once it’s in front of her.
“Thanks,” she speaks, and your knees nearly crumble below you. Her voice is calm, even, and feels like a stark contrast against the state she’s put you in by nearly existing in your vicinity. You nod before busying yourself with other patrons, trying to ignore the burning sensation of her eyes on you as you move about the bar.
His voice erupts through the loud volume of the bar, nearly making you flinch as you turn to face him. You can’t be angry when you see the smile that cracks through his whole face, disappearing as he ducks through the counter and tugs you into a hug.
“Shift secured,” he mumbles into your hair, picking you up the slightest bit off the ground before setting you down.
“You feel lighter,” he notes, eyebrows pulled together as he steps back to inspect you.
“Maybe you’re just getting stronger,” you deflect, shrugging as you turn back to the counter.
The barback reappears, doing his best to stay out of your way.
“Who’s this little one?” his voice is in your ear in an instant, like an obnoxious mosquito. You bat at him as you groan, shaking your head.
“You’re fucking nasty, Bo, the kid’s like freshly twenty-one,” you sneer into his ear, confusion flooding Bo’s face as he steps back.
“I’m fucking twenty-seven, not forty,” he spits defensively, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation as you snicker, shrugging.
“Unc,” you nearly bark the word, earning a loud groan from Bo as he pulls at his hair, retreating to the opposite side of the counter.
He faces the customer you’ve been avoiding the whole night, but suddenly reappears at your side with a nervous look.
“Says he doesn’t want anyone but you, Angel,” he speaks low, keeping it the least bit obvious as you nod, drying your hand on your towel as you walk over.
“Randy,” you greet him, nodding as he leans back into the stool, eyeing you.
“You avoiding me, Angel?”
“Never that, Randy. What can I get for you tonight?”
“You still off the menu?”
You clench your jaw, biting back the searing words that threaten to spill from your pursed lips as you shake your head sharply.
“Not for any price you can afford,” you let the words fall out, at least earning a sharp chuckle from the man.
“Whatever you got on tap,” he speaks gruffly, eyes wandering over the various other patrons stationed on stools down the counter. His eyes stop on the muscular girl, a whistle sounding from his lips as you pull the glass to the nozzle, pulling down the lever and allowing the beer to sit an inch below the rim before sliding it across.
“Not every day you see a dyke round here,” Randy sneers, eyes narrowing in on her. Your blood runs hot, teeth grinding in an attempt to hold your tongue hostage.
“What makes you say that?”
Randy turns his head to look at you, snorting at your expression.
“So damn defensive. What, you know her?”
You wave a hand, shaking your head. “You closing your tab, or keeping it open?”
Randy eyes you for a second, as if he’s actually considering his options.
Great. This was going to be a fantastic night.
Randy is three beers in before he starts really causing trouble, and Manny has luckily reappeared to replace the stuttering barback boy to dismiss him back to the smaller bar stationed in the back.
Bo eyes him as he departs, whistling low and deep.
“Hate to see ‘em leave, love to watch them go,” he mutters, shaking his head. He yelps as your rag makes contact with his forearm, hand rubbing the skin as he turns to face you, eyes wide.
“Bein’ a fuckin slut,” you mutter, shaking your head.
You don’t need to turn to know the woman is still there. She’s been stealing glances at you the whole time, her large hand settled around the sweating glass bottle.
“She’s still here,” Manny notes as he passes by you, smirking as you catch his gaze.
He had been pulled into other tasks, disappearing for at least half an hour before returning in a frenzy, clearly pleasantly surprised when seeing the woman was still perched comfortably on her stool, gaze lingering on you.
“She’s been buying drinks,” you’re quick to defend her, earning a look from Manny. You know that's not what he meant, but you’re desperate to diffuse the situation.
You’re careful with your glances before she manages to catch your attention, muscular frame leaning in towards the counter. You appear in front of her, standing on your toes to hear her over the booming live music from the stage on the floor above, echoing through the speakers that are perched throughout the room.
You nod quickly, stepping back to duck under the bar into the fridge to retrieve another bottle. You’re standing in moments, eyes wide as they trail further upward. She’s stood up now, full height exposed, and she’s even taller than you had realized. She kicks her leg out into the open space, eyebrows knit together and eyes clenched shut, before she reseats herself.
She opens them once settled, a sheepish look suddenly on her face.
“Sorry, joint problems. Havin’ a flare up,” she notes, motioning to her knee as you nod weakly, passing the bottle across the counter. Your breath hitches as her fingers brush yours in the pass, and you quickly retract your hand back to your side of the counter.
She eyes you for a second as she takes a long sip, shaking her head as she settles the bottle back down.
You nod, retreating back to Nora to refill her drink. You ignore her hard stare, attempting to pull yours up to her. She’s trying and desperately failing to reign you in as subtly as possible.
“What was that?” she whispers furiously as she leans across the counter, earning a shrug as you pass the cup across the counter.
“Fuck if I know, Nor,” you speak, voice nearly shaking at the edges.
“Ay, fuckin mooch,” Manny appears at your side, offering an out as you sweep beside him, rushing to the bathroom as you shout over your shoulder that you’ll be right back as the two burst into a catty argument. They can’t exist within the same room without it happening, an inevitability you honestly love to bear witness to.
You steel yourself as you push the door open, disappearing into a stall. You sink down against the wall, head in your hands as you rub your thumbs into your temples, groaning quietly into the space deprived of loud music and chatter, attempting to overpower the incessant volume.
You finally manage to rise to your feet, walking out to wash your hands and rush cold water over your hot skin in an attempt to cool yourself off.
Your head whips to the side as the door bangs open, earning a quiet “shit” from the figure entering, and oh God, she’s right in front of you.
She turns, sheepish smile on her face.
“My bad. You’re not gonna tell your boss on me for damages?”
You barely let the joke settle as you shake your head furiously, moving to grab paper towels to dry your hands.
“Abby,” her voice is suddenly all you can hear, and her large hand is outstretched between you two. You hesitate before taking it, shaking it slowly.
“It’s Angel,” you manage out, eyeing the woman through your long lashes.
She throws her head back, exposing the span of her throat as she lets out a loud laugh that echoes through the room.
“No, no– my name is Abby. Abby Anderson,” she finally speaks, smiling down at you. She still hasn’t let your hand go from the motion, and there’s an irritating sensation filling you. You know her from somewhere, you just can’t pinpoint where.
“Well, nice to meet you, Abby Anderson,” you speak, your gaze dropping down to your hands joined between the two of you.
“You as well, Angel,” her voice nearly croons your nickname, and your skin is on fucking fire at the sound of it on her tongue.
You release her large hand from your own, eyes flickering up her arms before resting back on her face, and she has that sweet smile plastered on it. You move to get around her, broad form nearly blocking the entire damn exit.
“I’ll make sure to grab another drink from you before I head out. I owe you a good tip,” she notes, eyeing you as she turns to watch you leave. You wave a hand, smiling over your shoulder as you disappear through the doorway and walk back to the bustling bar. You duck under the counter, joining Manny to tend to the patrons.
Randy is still seated in his usual spot, face reddening from the alcohol in his system. He’s chatting with the man beside him, socializing for once, and giving you a break from his incessant pestering. Manny has offered countless times to get the man kicked out, but you refuse– he technically hasn’t done anything, and that would just be starting something. And that was the last thing you wanted.
“Here she comes,” Manny murmurs in his passing, earning a roll of your eyes as your head turns to follow his gaze. Abby is walking towards the bar from the bathroom, beelining back to her seat. She perches herself on the stool, glancing around until her gaze falls on you. Her smile cracks at her lips, and you try your best to ignore the fire spreading in your chest as you turn back to tend to another patron. Abby waits patiently until you’re in front of her once more, arms folded on the bar as you lean across.
“One more, then I’m closing my tab,” she notes, and you try to ignore the slight disappointment you feel as you nod, ducking under to retrieve another beer.
You accept the card that she has outstretched to you, silver and heavy between your fingers. Damn. Her job must be impressive.
You run the tab, returning with a receipt and pen to pass onto the counter, but she beats your hand to it, using it as an excuse to brush your fingers over one another’s as she recollects her card. She quickly signs her name, ignoring the tip option as she pulls out her wallet, black leather– it suits her– and pulls out two twenties. She passes it into your hand, watching your eyebrows knit together as she closes your hand around the bills.
You tuck it into the pocket of the small apron tied around your waist, trying to ignore the warmth that had spread across the skin she had come in contact with.
“So, Angel, you from here?”
You can’t help but smile as you shake your head, leaning on the counter once more. Your hair pools over your shoulders, covering your chest slightly to Abby’s dismay as she steels her gaze to remain strictly on your own.
“Moved out here with someone, had to get my own place a few months ago. Been working here for about a year,” you explain, nodding as she looks at you with a curious gaze.
“Indeed,” you note, a sharp huff of air escaping your lips as you shake your head.
“He’s an idiot for that one,” she nearly sneers, leaning back in the stool as she takes a swig of her beer.
“She is,” you correct, nearly snorting as Abby chokes on the sip she had started to swallow.
She coughs hard into her elbow, blue eyes welling with tears as she nods sharply, eyebrows raised. You got her with that one, that’s for sure.
“She’s a fucking idiot,” Abby repeats herself, tongue running over her lower lip to collect the taste of beer off, and your eyes immediately trail the muscle in its slow movement.
You shrug as you straighten up off the counter, smiling at the girl in front of you.
“What about you? You from here?”
A form suddenly appears at Abby’s side, clapping a hand on her back and disrupting the conversation.
You glance between the two, confusion knitting your forehead into a knot.
“You two know one another?”
Owen snorts as he nods, landing another smack to Abby’s back.
“Dated in high school, believe it or not,” Owen said, grinning as Abby rolled her eyes, face burrowing into her hands to hide her expression as the man throws his head back in laughter.
“So funny Owen, you got the lesbian before she turned,” Abby all but sneers, earning a slightly alarmed look from Owen.
“You know I didn’t mean it like–”
“Fuck off, Owen,” she speaks, tone heavy and harsh as she slips off the stool, finishing off her beer and sliding the bottle across to you.
“Owen, fuck you. Angel, it was lovely chatting with you,” she spoke, voice softening when turning to address you. Owen rolled his eyes, hands held up in an offensive position.
“I’ll be back sometime soon,” she speaks, slipping on a leather jacket that had been slung across the back of her seat. God, it gripped her in all the right places.
You nod a goodbye, waving a hand and quickly busying yourself amongst other patrons in an attempt to fight off the swimming sensation in your skull.
Manny is grumbling beside you, something about needing Owen to return back to his righteous throne of assholery as you do your best to tune him out, exhausted from the night. It isn’t long before your shift is finally over, Nora having already left, leaving you to return to your apartment alone. The streets are dark, doused in weak lights that attempt to bloom gold figures to light the pathway. You tug your sweatshirt tighter around you, fighting off the cold. You should have packed sweatpants, seeing as it had dropped to fifty degrees tonight, but you were in too much of a rush on your way out to remember in time.
Your eye catches a figure in the alleyway, a tightening sensation growing in your chest as you speed up your pace, sinking into the hood of the sweatshirt as you rush down the street.
You’re gasping for breath by the time you’re inside the building, hands shaking as you manage to unlock the door and stumble in, slamming and locking it behind you.
You’re greeted with darkness, a hollow emptiness as you glance around the tiny studio space, flicking on a lamp. Nights are the worst, and yet you can’t manage to sleep through them.
It’s five AM by the time you finally manage to drift off after showering, hair now dry from your hours of attempting to sleep. It’s painfully lonely, cold, and so fucking loud.
It doesn’t take long before yelling from the apartment erupts above you, scaring you out of your half-asleep state with a racing heart as you groan in frustration, tears welling in your aching eyes.
oh hello my loves!!! i am SO excited to get this piece up on tumblr ! i also have it posted on ao3 (i'm a bit more ahead on there lol) so feel free to check in there as well ! :-)
divider credit: @olenvasynyt
