“Shelley! Another round for me ’n the boys!”

“Coming right up, Steve.”

“Shelley! Baby! When you gonna let me take you out?”

“When your wife gives her blessing, Angus.”

Hearty laughter followed me back to the bar, and I shot a cheeky wink over my shoulder. I never would have imagined myself being comfortable working in a place like this back when I first started college. Confidence had discovered me hiding in a book, and I had embraced it out of necessity.

I filled the glasses for the table of five, leaving the perfect amount of foam on top.

“Damn, you’re good at that. You should work in a bar or something.” Miles flicked his bar rag over his shoulder and flashed his movie-star smile at me. Butterflies swirled through my belly, heating my cheeks. If only my confidence extended into the area of men.

“Oh, should I? Maybe I’ll go put in an application at Finnegan’s. Oh, wait! Here I am!” I rolled my eyes at him, and he stuck his tongue out at me.

If only that tongue were a little closer, I thought. Words like that would never make it past my lips, but that didn’t keep me from thinking them. That boy made me distracted every shift, and tonight was no different.

“Shelley! Come on, girl, watch what you’re doing, would ya?”

“Oh, gosh, Billy, I’m sorry. I’ll get you a fresh one and a towel—one second.”

“Yeah, but leave this one here. No point wasting half a beer.” Billy winked at me and tipped the dripping glass into his mouth.

“You ever gonna ask that pretty boy out?” Angus asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Of course not! You know I’m just waiting for your wife’s permission, and then I’m all yours.”

“Yeah, yeah, flirting with old men pays your bills. But who’s gonna keep your bed warm at night, huh?”

I glanced across the bar at Miles, who was staring off into space and absently flicking his towel on the counter.

“Doesn’t look too bright, though. Might want to get that IQ tested before you start making babies.”

“Oh hush, Angus,” I said, but I felt heat rise on my neck.

“Um, darlin’?”

“Oh! Sorry Billy, I’ll be right back.”

A fresh beer and a towel later and I was back on Billy’s good side. Miles seemed to be fumbling tonight, worse than he had since his training week ended three months ago.

After his third botched drink, I took him aside. His close proximity in the darkened corner of the loud, dim bar made me want to touch him in all kinds of inappropriate ways. I settled for a platonic hand on his shoulder.

“Hey. You all right?”

“Hm? Why do you ask?” he replied absently.

The spark of flirtation which was usually present in his tone was nowhere to be found. He was still off somewhere else in his head. I could see the wheels turning behind his bright blue eyes, hear the calculations hiding in his tone.

“Look at me,” I told him, putting a hand on his face. “Are you high or something?”

He grinned at me, then, his eyes coming into sharp focus.

“Just high on life, Shelley. I’ll focus, cross my heart.”

“You’re working on that app in your head. I can tell.”

“I am shocked and offended at your accurate accusation!” He swept a dramatic hand to his chest as his eyes twinkled at me.

“Back-burner it before you get fired,” I said, suppressing a grin.

“That’s the problem with the world today—everybody’s so busy surviving in it that they’re putting off changing it.” He had gone suddenly somber, but quickly shook it off.

“Change the world on your own time,” I admonished gently. “Junior is around here somewhere, and you’re still the newbie. He’s watching you.”

Angus called for another round, and I shot Miles one last warning look as I scurried back through the crowded tables. Miles didn’t react; he wasn’t even looking at me. It bothered me more than it should have.

“Finally pinned the boy down for some on-the-clock necking?” Angus asked with a friendly leer.

“Oh yeah, you know we like to give you guys a show,” I answered sarcastically.

“Better get to it, girl. That boy has big dreams.”

“Never shuts up about them,” Steve agreed. “Gonna drive me nuts with that techno-babble one of these days.”

“You know he only talks to you guys because he knows you won’t understand a word he’s saying,” I teased. “Another round?”

“Yes ma’am.”

He waved me off and I hurried back to the bar for the round of lager, picking up orders for tequila shots and long islands on the way.

I took pride in my efficiency, and filled my tray with all the drinks before heading back out. I expected Miles to make a comment about me trying to climb the corporate step stool, but he was busy shaking a mixer and staring off into space. His customers were gazing at him with a mixture of boredom and annoyance.

“Miles! Focus!”

I didn’t stick around to see if the words reached him.

Shots here, talls there, and finally the round of lager, I flirted and complimented my way across the room. I had really grown to love my job in ways I had never thought possible, but it did exhaust me. Not just the physically taxing parts, but the constant interplay between myself and the customers as well. It wasn’t something I was naturally good at, and even though I enjoyed it, it still took a lot out of me.

Miles was still half a step behind his work, and seemed to be completely oblivious of the intentions of the two women he was serving. They were taking turns aggressively hitting on him, and he was answering their double entendres as if he were interpreting them literally.

It wasn’t unlike Miles to miss a cue; he’d been missing mine for months. But wordplay was his favorite past time, and he was bypassing so many opportunities for humor that I was beginning to wonder if he’d had some kind of stroke.

The doors opened, then, letting in everyone who had just ended the workday. It would be hours before I would have another chance to talk to him, and I was having no luck at all trying to catch his eye.

Resigning myself to worrying from afar, I focused all of my energy on working the floor while Miles shakily held down the bar. He definitely had the easier half of the job, but he couldn’t seem to keep up with it.

“Back burner,” I said as I passed behind him to grab the whiskey.

“Man, if you knew—”

“Two more shots down here!”

“Tell me later,” I said quickly. “And for the love of God, Miles, focus!”

I hurried back out to the floor, and was called over by a familiar face.

“Shelley! I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Hi, professor! I didn’t know you drank here,” I shot back.

Professor Zain chuckled, stroking his grey beard, which was flecked with bright spots of paint. He never could seem to keep it clean.

“Only occasionally, my dear. Celebrating the end of this interminable summer. Will you be coming back this semester?”

“Yes, sir! I’m hoping to get into your senior class.”

“Senior already! How time flies. And then off to take the world by storm, I hope. A traveling artist, perhaps? Yes, I can see your work in galleries from New York to France. Or perhaps a clothing designer, yeah? You do have quite the talent for screen printing.”

“High aspirations for me, as always,” I said affectionately. “But to be perfectly frank, professor, I think I would rather curate art than try to sell my own.”

He was silent for a moment, considering me as he stroked his beard. “A pity,” he said. “The world would benefit from your point of view. Ah, well. If that is your path, you will find it. If not, you will be the best curator the world has ever seen!”

I laughed, embarrassed but happy at his faith in me. He ordered a stout and sent me on my way.

I didn’t have another chance to talk to the professor before he left, as the bar was getting increasingly busy and I had to keep my eye out for the sloppily drunk and disorderly, but seeing him was enough to get me excited for the new school year. I had every intention of finishing my academic career on a high note, and Professor Zain’s class was a surefire way to make that happen.

Before that, though, I was determined to finish out the last summer of my academic career with a bang. I would settle for metaphorical, but I was hoping for literal.

I watched Miles mix drinks with quick and nimble hands, and took a moment to imagine what those hands could do to my body. Chills ran down my spine and I nearly spilled another drink. Angus was absolutely right. I needed to act on this before I lost the opportunity. Miles wasn’t going to stick around Finnegan’s forever, after all.

As if to emphasize that fact, his current customer was pitching him a position at his company.

“If you’re as good as you say, I have a job for you. It’s an entry-level internship, but it’s a great opportunity.”

“Intern? Paid or unpaid?”

“Well it’s great experience, and your portfolio would be top of the pile when it comes time for you to move up—”

“Thanks, Larry, but I’ll pass. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Miles winked at him to soften his words, and the guy shrugged.

“I mean, I respect that and everything, but I think you’re making a big mistake.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. Can I get you anything else?”

“Your resume?”

“Goes down kind of papery; you’re gonna want a chaser.”

Larry laughed, and I was already moving on to my next customer. I was definitely running out of time. Miles might be overestimating his app’s potential—I had a hard time believing that it would change the world the way he said it would—but he was certainly talented.

He had shown me a few of the apps he had helped develop before dropping out of Harvard and moving to the West Coast to try and make it on his own, and they were all professional quality. When he started going on about them, he had a way of losing me in passionate technical jargon in minutes.

I wondered if I sounded the same way to people whenever I started talking about the technical side of art. I suspected that I did. I was going to have to do something about that if I was going to work with the public in a museum. I considered the possibility of practicing on my regular customers at the bar, and the thought made me grin. Between me and Miles, those poor guys would get a college education whether they liked it or not.

The night ticked on in a swirl of music, drunken demands, and booze-serving, as it always did. I managed to catch Miles’ eye once or twice over the course of it, and each time, it made my stomach clench.

It shouldn’t be legal for someone to be that attractive. If it hadn’t been so busy, I probably would have spent most of my shift daydreaming about those eyes locking with mine, those hands on my skin, that mouth…but the chairs filled as quickly as they emptied, without a second to clean up in between. I managed to move around the customers efficiently to clear the surfaces, with help from the ever-present and oft-unnoticed Jeff.

He was in his fifties but moved like a janitorial ninja, virtually unseen as he whisked away cigarette butts and straw wrappers almost as soon as they hit the floor. He and I had developed a rhythm for the rush; he would follow just behind and to the left of me as I wiped the tables down, flicking the detritus into his dustbin with my rag. We circled the room quickly, then stole a breather beside the trash can.

“He was staring at you before,” Jeff murmured to me as he lit a cigarette. “Isn’t it about time you made a move?”

“Why do I have to make a move?” I asked, flustered. “If he’s staring, he should make the move.”

“Why, because he’s the guy? I thought you art-school girls were progressive.” The playful twinkle in his eye halted my temper before it flared, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Well, maybe I just don’t want to bother him,” I hissed.

“Or maybe you’re just a chicken.”

I glared at him and he laughed, his voice raspy with decades of smoking. I heard a call for another round and moved away into the crowd, but Jeff’s challenge stuck in my mind for the rest of the night. I wasn’t chicken. Quite the contrary.

Look at me! I thought. Moved away from home, spent three years making the most of the college scene—I’m good. I’m golden. I’m brave as hell, damn it.

I had never been more relieved to announce last call. It should have been Miles, but he was busy emphatically explaining something to a bleary-eyed patron who didn’t seem to be following a word of it.

I spent more time watching him than cutting people off, which was going to get me in trouble if I didn’t reel myself in. My obsession with Miles’ absent-mindedness was reaching an unhealthy level, as was my concern that he would disappear out of my world before I had a chance to tell him how I felt about him. When the last stumbling straggler finally shuffled out the door, I took my first full breath in hours.

“Busy tonight,” I commented to Miles as I locked the doors.

“Was it? I didn’t notice.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. You weren’t really noticing much of anything. What’s with you tonight?”

Miles slid a sly look at me out the corner of his devastating blue eyes. “Okay, I shouldn’t say anything because I don’t want to jinx it. But if I don’t talk about it, I’m going to drive myself nuts and then I’m going to show up tomorrow looking like a madman and bomb the whole thing.”

“What whole thing?” I grabbed a towel and started wiping down tables as he paced the floor agitatedly.

“I found an investor,” he said in a strangled whisper. He took a huge breath and released it, almost shaking with excitement. “They’re interested in the app. Like, actually interested. This could be my big break, Shelley! I’m meeting with them tomorrow and I’ve spent the whole week going over my presentation, and I’ve been running through it all night in my head, and I know it’s as perfect as I can make it, but I can’t seem to quit thinking about it…I’m terrified, honestly.”

I cocked my head to one side. An urge rose up in me that I had pushed back down dozens of times over the last three months, but Jeff’s comment still rankled the back of my mind. I wasn’t going to let a touch of anxiety steal this chance away from me, and what did Jeff know anyway? I was more than capable of asking a guy out. I knew how to get what I wanted, right? Right.

“Sounds like you need a distraction,” I said thoughtfully. “Do you want to go grab a drink?”