Page 72 of Filthy and the Beast

“Not quitting.” Standing, I adjust my glasses. “But I will try to sneak back for some more breaks. Sorry I can’t hang with you all more.”

“You’re perfect,” Fox says. “Thanks for the visit.”

Nico gives me an encouraging smile. “Don’t forget to breathe!”

“And pee!” Reggie adds cheerfully.

I hesitate by the door. “Game night soon? We haven’t gotten everyone together in a while.”

“I hear you got Enzo to play Wingspan the other week.” Reggie chuckles. “Wish I could have seen that.”

“Maybe we could do a game night at your place some time! If Enzo is amenable to hosting, of course.” Nico glances to everyone else. “The garden is great, and maybe you’d get to meet the dogs, too.”

“The man’s got a nice house,” Reggie agrees.

Though I can't imagine Enzo hosting a party, I laugh, pleased by the idea. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask him about it.” I glance out the door. The crowd's building, and anxiety spikes up my spine. “Gotta go!”

For the rest of the night, the bar consumes my attention. I fall into the flow with Ares, juggling conversations and joking around with customers. Mixing the drinks is a fun challenge, and I do have flashes of a genuine good time. But they don't counter the constant stress, which just seems to build.

Even when I sneak back to check on my friends, I can’t shake my awareness of someone at the bar needing me.

Ares ends the night for me early, a little after twelve. I’ve made enough money and I’m exhausted, so I call myself a Lyft home. My cheek pressed to the window, I watch the dark city roll by.

Fuck. I think I hate being a bartender.

But I shake that thought away. There’s a stack of cash in my bag, more than I made at the game café in a week.

I’ll save a bit more. Get settled at the job. Then I can talk to Enzo.

I’m not even sure what I want in a relationship, exactly. It’s just increasingly clear I want him.

When I get back, I’m surprised to hear some noise from the den. I head around the corner. Enzo sleeps on the couch with a nature documentary on the big TV.

Grinning, I watch him. He’s in pajama pants and a t-shirt, his chest is rising and falling with heavy breath. The dogs snooze on the ground next to him, and penguins run across an iceberg on the screen.

When I shift my weight, the floor squeaks. Enzo pops awake, and I step back, then realize running away is creepy and step forward again.

“Oh. Hey.” Pretending like he wasn't sleeping, he sits up and rubs his face. “Just getting back?”

Was he trying to stay awake to make sure I made it home? Considering it, I feel tingly all over.

“Yeah. I took a Lyft.”

“Good night?”

Still standing in the doorway, I sigh. “Exhausting. Stressful. Hard.”

He frowns. “Don’t like that.”

I shake my head. “Sorry. I’m complaining.” I nod toward the TV. “Penguins?”

“Just whatever’s on.”

I smile hopefully. “I like penguins.”

Smiling back, Enzo snorts. “Come here.”

He moves over on the couch. When I sit down across from him, he pulls my legs up. Without saying anything, he tugs my socks off and starts rubbing my feet.

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