Loving You Differently

Thirty Nine

Aria Adkins

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.