5.2

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"You're working the early shift?" Quin asks, sitting down on a stool opposite of me. I greet him with a friendly smile; he's a regular - and regularly trying to get into my pants as well.

"Yeah, Ty called in sick this morning, so I'll have to cover for him," I explain lightly, already preparing his drink. At first, I got confused a lot, but now I know who drinks what at which time of the day. He always starts the evening with a ‚Limelight'.

"Don't you work the night shifts as well?" he asks curiously, watching me intently. His eyes widen in surprise and I follow his gaze to my arm, where two red dots tell of my recent activities. There's also the cut that I covered with a small patch.

"Come on, don't be such a prude. I thought you'd be a bit more open-minded." I chuckle, placing his drink down in front of him. He raises his hand in a placating gesture.

"Didn't say anything. So, doing double shifts, huh? Sounds tough."

"Well, I've got good company." I grin, then step away for a second as a waiter approaches to relay an order. It's a weekday, so it's not as busy, though we've got many customers who like to drop by after work. After eight, it's usually difficult to find somewhere to sit down. Considering that I don't like sticking around too many people, this is actually fun. Maybe it's because they're customers who want someone to listen to their worries instead of someone to lecture.

The hours pass quickly. At midnight, I excuse myself to take a short break since we've been at it for six hours already - and I've got another six left to go. I take an energy drink out of the fridge, filling my mouth with the sweet liquid. It's nice to drink something cold because it's freaking hot outside and inside the bar as well. Neither the fans nor the constantly opened door and windows can help with that.

"Al, I know you've got to take a break, but the orders are piling up and we've got no one working today who's even slightly decent at making drinks," Budd, the owner, shouts over the noise of people and music. Sighing, I take my drink with me, expecting to drop dead the moment my shift ends.

Budd's a nice guy, always helping out with the work. His place is right above the bar, so he comes down every evening, sometimes just to talk to the regulars. He's great at managing the place but sucks at everything else.

When I return home, Freckles greets me loudly, looking up at me expectantly. All I can think about is my bed and sleep. Inside my room, I make sure the shutters are closed so the sun won't disturb me. I strip, then fall onto the mattress face first, not bothering to cover myself with the blanket because it's freaking hot. Freckles curls up at my hip.

Eight hours later, my phone wakes me, sounding the alarm that tells me work starts in three hours. And I have to arrive half an hour early, just as I have to stay half an hour after my shift has ended, to do everything that still needs doing. Groaning, I get up.

"Honey, I've made meatballs. Enough so you can take some to work later as well," mom greets me with a smile that I return half-heartedly because I'm not fully awake yet.

She puts a cup of coffee onto the kitchen table in front of me as I sit down. She's already used to doing housework while having to rely on crutches. I sip away at it, not enjoying the bitter taste, but needing it to get going.

After a healthy meal, I take a shower, then check the clock. I've got about an hour left, a bit longer than that. Good. I still haven't managed to paint the tenor of his voice, so maybe I'll be able to now that I've listened to it recently.

Doesn't quite hit the mark though.

I get stuck at the feeling of his breath reverberating inside my ear, sounding like small waves rippling across an otherwise calm ocean. I frown, unsure if I should try to get back to the intended topic or simply continue. Freckles meows and I pet him absentmindedly.

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