Page 2

Taylor

“Sharing the bathroom with a girl is ludicrous,” Will says, leaning against the door frame.

In the two months I’ve lived here, not a day has gone by when he didn’t tease me about something that has to do with girlhood. Whether it be how I do my makeup, my hair, or my strawberry shampoo, he finds something.

And boy do I love it.

“You wish you were this hot,” I respond, tugging the top half of my hair into a clip. Will chuckles, his eyes on my reflection in the mirror.

Will had adopted me as a friend very quickly after I moved in. Simon tolerates me, but I think the only reason he doesn’t mind me is because I cook pretty frequently for them. If I don’t cook, I’ll bring them fries from the bar.

I turn to Will, motioning to my outfit. A simple navy blouse, ripped black jeans, and some Smokey eye makeup.

Smokey eye always did the trick.

“How do I look?” I ask.

“Hot.” He replied with a grin. I mirror his grin with a chuckle. Such a shameless flirt, he is.

I brush past Will and head into my room, grabbing my purse before going downstairs. Simon's massive frame is at the kitchen island, putting together a sandwich.

“Ooo, pepperoni,” I say as I walk behind Simon, plucking a pepperoni off his sandwich. He glares down at me with cold eyes, and I roll my own in response.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m bringing you fries tonight,” I say, glaring back up at him.

“My favorite woman in the entire world,” Will said as he came up behind me. I turn around to face him with a smile.

“Never forget it.” I chuckle up at him. There’s a tickle on my back, making me shiver. Goosebumps cover my skin as Will speaks.

“Can my favorite woman pick up milk on her way home?” Will asks with puppy dog eyes.

“Sure,” I respond with a smile.

I sidestep Will, heading out the front door and into the car. It’s finally starting to warm up a little outside. My nostrils no longer stick together.

To say the bar's parking lot is packed would be an understatement. Cars are parked along the side of the road for at least a mile.

“Did you sell your soul to the Devil?” I ask Olivia as I walk behind the bar. She laughs loudly, the live band drowning out the house.

“More like the Irish want to get plastered.” She replies with a huge grin. That explains all the green, it’s Saint Patrick’s Day.

“Almost ready to go home?” Olivia asks from behind me as I pour yet another Guinness in a glass.

“You have no idea.” My feet feel like bruises, and my arms feel like jelly. It was a long night.

I slide the beer across the bar top to the redhead who’s been eyeing me all night, making certain that I saw him checking me out.

“You’re cut off, red,” I tell him with a smile. He’s well past the ability to drive.

“Go out with me and I’ll stop.” He says with a smirk.

“How about stop drinking and I’ll call you an Uber,” I respond.

“That wasn’t a no.” He says, his smirk growing.

“Yes, it was,” I reply politely. His cocky exterior falters. “Go home.”

“Only if you come with me.” He persists. I roll my eyes in irritation, wiping the bar top with a rag.

I walk through the swinging doors of the kitchen, tossing the rag in a laundry bin.

“Tony, can I get a couple of orders of fries to go?” I ask the cook. I’m sure Will and Simon were starving. “Maybe some burgers, too.”

I turn down the back hall, the kitchen doors swinging shut behind me.

A gasp fills my lungs as my back roughly meets the wall. When I look up, cold-blooded fear spreads through me as I look into the eyes of the red-headed man from the bar.

“You’re coming home with me.” He says, gritting his teeth. His hands are on my shoulders, pinning me to the wall.

“Yeah fucking right.” I spat, glaring into his ugly eyes.

“Playing hard to get.” He says with a smirk, his hand drifting to my neck. He closes his grip around me, too tight for me to breathe easily. “You like it when I touch you? I bet you do, you fucking whore.”

His grip tightens on my neck, the edges of my vision turning purple.

“How about I follow you home, huh? Sneak into your room and cover your mouth so no one hears you scream, while I-,”

Rage fills me from the top of my skull to the bottom of my heels. I rear back and punch him in the nose with every ounce of strength I can possibly muster.

“Next time you touch a woman, get her fucking consent.”

“You… you bitch!” He yells, blood falling into his hand as he brings his palm to his nose.

“Tay? You okay- what the hell happened.” Olivia said, walking into the hall.

“Your bitch waitress punched me.” The man said. I rear back my fist again, but Olivia tugs me backward. Who the fuck does he think he’s calling a waitress?

“Ignore him. Are you okay?” Liv asks, tugging me further away from him. Tony walks out from behind us with a baseball bat, heading straight for the redhead.

“I’m fine… I’m…” I shake out my hand, my knuckles a little sore. “He threatened me.”

“I’ll call the police,” Liv says, turning for the office, but I quickly stop her.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Calling the police would be the logical thing to do if you didn’t have two overprotective military roommates.

“Jesus, Tay. I’ve never seen you punch someone that hard.” Liv says, taking my hand in hers to inspect it.

I shrug. “No one’s ever pissed me off that bad,” I respond. I didn’t make a habit of punching assholes, just the ones that threatened me. This was only the second time.

“He’s gone, I watched him drive off,” Tony says, holding out a few to-go boxes for me to take.

“Thanks, T,” I respond with a smile.

“I’ll walk you out.” He says, his hand between my shoulder blades as he leads me through the crowd.

“Thanks for chasing him out, T,” I say, getting into the car. Tony had been Olivia and I’s work Dad since the day he started working there. Always making us extra food, then giving us advice on when to invest in stocks.

“Anything for you.” He responds, smiling. He shuts my door before heading back into the still-busy bar.

I mindlessly turn the engine on, watching the street lights float by out of my peripheral vision. Driving always helps clear my head, especially at night. All the lights easily stole my attention.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself as a twenty-four-hour grocery store comes into view. Will needs me to pick up milk.

I pull off and mindlessly stroll through the aisles of the store, picking up some things. Ice cream, the deli pepperoni Simon likes, even those spicy little candies Will is always snacking on.