Page 71 of 1 Last Shot

I've been pissy all day. I almost got into a fight with a patron earlier that was a normal level of drunk, but I felt like punching someone and he just happened to light the fuse.

It's an odd switch from the past few days. Up until today, I've been pretty much the opposite. I haven't gone after anyone at the club, haven't wanted to snap at anyone in public—I even managed to focus on technique instead of brute strength at the gym. For days, I haven't been my usual angry self.

Since I saw Isabella.

That was the last time I had a late shift. The club has security working extra lately, so the fact that I got even a late start is unheard of—forget having a day off. I’ve worked every day for the past five days, and I’m on for the next seven straight.

Unfortunately, that also means I haven't been able to see Isabella again. It's not just that she's an early bird and I'm a night owl, it's also that while I'm free, she's working or dancing. And by the time she's free, I'm heading off to work. We have complete opposite schedules, and it's making me pissy as fuck.

Marcus shakes me out of my thoughts when I see him waving from the other side of the floor. The two other bouncers are already standing there, staring glumly at the straws in Marcus's hand.

Closing with Bobby is undisputedly the worst part of working this job. He's the only manager that takes hours to close, all because he re-counts the cash multiple times before he's satisfied. And we have to wait while he does it. So anytime he's closing manager, the bouncers draw straws to decide who gets to be the unlucky bastard that doesn't get home until 5 a.m.

But then I realize something as I'm walking over to the group. The last time I closed with Bobby was the night Isabella knocked on my door at 6 a.m. because she heard me walking around.

An idea hits me just as I reach the guys. Before they can each grab a straw, I shove my hands in my pockets and say in an attempted casual tone, "I can close with Bobby tonight."

The guys stare at me like I've grown three heads. Rightfully so. No one in the history of the club has ever offered to staylater.

"You sure?" Marcus asks, his tone skeptical.

I nod stiffly. "Yeah, it's no problem." I think they want me to add awhy, but they know me well enough not to expect it.

Marcus sighs. "Alright, well I'm not going to say no to that. Good luck getting to sleep at dawn."

I'm counting on it.

I wait at the front desk while Bobby goes through his closing tasks. Normally when I do this, I'm counting the minutes, feeling my annoyance mount as my tiredness does, but tonight I'm counting the minutes as my excitement builds. I pass the time with memories of the other day with Isabella, of how it felt fucking her on my bike and then listening to her talk when I took her out to eat after. I’ve realized I could listen to her talk for hours—not just because there’s something incredibly soothing about her voice, but also because I like getting inside her brain. Ilikethat she’s chatty.

I'm smiling to myself when Bobby finds me. He gestures to me that he's done and ready to go.

I rush to grab my jacket and helmet.

It's 5 a.m. when I finally walk into my apartment. After greeting a sleepy Oscar, I decide on a quick shower, wanting to wash the stink of the club off me. But that only takes a few minutes, and when I walk back into my living room, I realize it's still only 5:20 a.m. And I don't hear any sounds coming from Isabella's apartment.

I start to pace, trying to figure out how long I should wait before I knock on her door. I make myself a cup of coffee in an effort to stay awake, but I'm so wired with nerves that I don't even really need it.

What if that was a one-off and she doesn't usually get up at six? What if we really do have total opposite schedules and the only time I get with her is hurried greetings in the hallway and a rare night off?

Oscar gives me a confused and grumpy stare as I pace a groove into my floor.

Just when I'm about to give up, I hear a cabinet door slam in her apartment.

I'm out my door before the sound has even died down.

My knock on her front door sounds loud and desperate to my ears, but I'm beyond caring. It's been five days since I've seen her.

When she opens the door, her brow is creased with worry. "I'm sorry, did I wake you? I try to be quiet—"

I cut her off by stepping forward and pressing a hard kiss to her lips.

I only mean it to be a single peck, but the second I get her taste in my mouth, I'm a fucking goner. Sliding my hands into her hair, I tease her lips open with my tongue as I try to get more of it.

When I eventually pull away, we're both gasping for breath. Leaning my forehead against hers, I say in a gruff murmur, "Morning, princess."

She's too surprised, too busy trying to get air into her lungs, to respond. The only thing she eventually gets out is a confused, "What…?"

I begrudgingly remove my hands from her hair and take a step back. "I heard you up, so I just wanted to see you before you left for work."

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