There have always been two rules in Shane’s life, don’t volunteer for anything and don’t fall in love with anyone shorter than yourself. The first tends to be a little more difficult, considering he has trouble turning anyone down, which was why he’d imposed the rule. The second, on the other hand, usually works out, considering he only dated men.

Now, he’s broken rule number one again and currently wants to throw up on his bar. But, that would probably get him fired, and if Shane has to add a third rule it would probably be, don’t get fired. He doesn’t have enough savings to get fired. Especially now he’s taken the morning and afternoon shifts for the next few weeks, while Sam covers the evening shifts, so Shane can make rehearsal. Without the tips from the evening, Shane is sure his wallet will be tight.

So he forces any bile down his throat, continues to clean the glasses until they are absolutely spotless, and tries his best to forget what he signed up for.

It sort of works. There’s a lingering anxiety in the back of his brain, but he shoves it down and simply pretends it doesn’t exist. Shane prefers this time of night, when the bar is beginning to fill and the quiet buzz slowly grows louder and louder, until it’s so loud he can barely hear his own thoughts. Instead, he tries to sink into the familiarity of his bar. At just after 9:00 p.m. on a Friday, the crowd is slowly changing. The office workers, with their loose ties, oxfords and pencil skirts, are finally starting to trickle out, being replaced by the more casual, fresh-faced, young adult crowd. All that’s left for Shane to do is fill drinks and exchange smiles with customers. He falls into an easy rhythm, glad to find this still makes sense.

Sam rolls out of the back room at that moment, bag swung over his shoulder, having finally finished his afternoon shift. As the only other bartender, outside of Ben, the owner, they’re used to working long shifts. Still, Sam’s shoulders slump more today and a bit more guilt settles into Shane’s stomach. “You sure you’re okay taking over the evening shifts for the next month?”

Sam waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Extra money and all that. If I really hate it, I’ll just quit.”

“I’ll kill you if you leave me alone,” after eight years, Shane can’t even imagine working without Sam.

“Oh, I’m kidding. Besides, you’ve been here longer, you get the first chance to quit,” Sam pushes an empty glass toward Shane.

“Eventually, yeah, I will,” Shane picks up the glass, sticking it in the sink without a word. He would. At some point, he swears to himself, he’s going to do something besides the same job he’s had since college.

“Mmm, just give me a heads up first. Anyway,” Sam says, pounding a fist against the bar lightly, pushing off the counter. “I’m out. The girlfriend wants to have ‘a talk,’” Sam rolls his eyes. “Whatever that means.”

Sam and his girlfriend, Ella, have been together for as long as Shane’s known them. As far as he understands, “a talk” means arguing, and then make up sex. Shane nods. “Alright, see ya later.”

Sam flicks a victory sign and disappears into the evening.

Just when Shane thinks he might avoid spontaneously combusting from anxiety, his worst nightmare wanders into the bar.

“Don’t look so happy to see me,” Violet plops herself on the stool directly in front of him, elbowing another man to get the seat. She’s still dressed in her sweater from earlier and her mascara has completely smudged around her eyes, giving her an even more pronounced raccoon look than before. Her brown hair has become a veritable tornado and her hands are covered in penned notes that have also smudged during the day. Despite this, she manages to exude a confident aura that holds the attention of everyone she meets.

Shane slides a drink to a customer, not quite looking into Violet’s eyes. “Don’t you have blocking to work on?” he says, lightly.

“Can’t really do much more until tomorrow,” Violet props her elbows on the counter, cradling her head in her hands. “This place smells like piss.”

“Supposedly, that’s the charm of it.”

Violet huffs, wrinkling her nose and Shane grins. She’s been complaining about the smell since he first started working at the bar, but still drops by once a week to visit. Violet’s always been picky like that but she’s a good friend.

Which only makes what he wants to say worse. With Violet in front of him, his anxiety flares up, full force, eating at his stomach. Shane nearly drops a glass, but manages to catch it before it shatters.

“Nice,” Violet says, dryly. “Almost like you haven’t worked here eight years.”

“Thanks,” Shane sets the glass and his rag down before he drops anything else. He hesitates, and then decides to just go for it. “Look Violet, I think this might have been a mistake…”

“A mistake?” Violet looks scandalized, but Shane presses on, wanting to finish before he loses it.

“A mistake. Everyone in there, well, they’re more experienced than I am.”

“Shane…”

“And I know we’re friends, but don’t let that stop you…”

“Shane,” she repeats, raising a hand. Shane clamps his mouth shut when Violet shoots him a look. “I’m not letting you quit when we haven’t even had a full rehearsal yet.”

Shane deflates. He should’ve guessed, it could never be quite that easy. “I don’t know if I can do this, Violet. Everyone in there, you have to admit it, they’re probably better.”

Violet doesn’t say anything for a moment and Shane thinks she’s going to concede. But then her jaw tightens and she straightens in her seat. “Listen, Shane. You just,” Violet waves her hands as she searches for the right words. “You have something. I can’t explain it, but I can see it.”

Shane frowns, and wishes he could see through Violet’s eyes instead, because he has no idea what she’s talking about. “Are you sure,” he says, gently. “That you might not be mistaken? Especially since it’s your first time directing.”

Violet’s face darkens and her mouth curves into a frown. “I can’t have made a mistake, Shane. Look,” she leans forward and grabs his hand over the bar. “I know you. You run at the first sign of conflict, or the first time something looks hard. But when you did those first line readings for me, I could just see that you had something. An understanding of the words in front of you. And sure it might not come as easy in front of other people, but I really think you can do this,” Violet squeezes his hand harder, a little too tightly if you asked him. “Come on, remember how you felt when it was just us?”

Shane heaves a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, recalling how he first got wrapped up in this production. Violet had just been in the process of casting and she’d tossed the script at Shane, smacking him directly in the face with it. “Here, stop whining and read that to me.”

Grumbling, Shane had bent to pick the script off the floor. “That could’ve given me a paper cut in my eye or something.”

“Shane, just read the damn part. I need to hear it out loud.”

Shane had been about to grumble further when Violet pinned him with a dark look. “Alright, alright,” he’d launched into the first lines, unimpressed. Then, as he continued, something seemed to click. He’d remembered studying the same passages in college. The words had rolled off his tongue, like they’d been waiting.

When he’d looked up, Violet was practically starry-eyed. “Shane, where the hell have you been hiding that?”

Ten minutes later, Shane suddenly found himself agreeing to be part of the show.

“Maybe it was a fluke,” Shane points out.

“Maybe,” Violet agrees casually. “But it can’t be a fluke, Shane. This might be my first time, but I have to stand by my decisions. If I waffle, I’m never going to get anywhere.”

Violet’s conviction shouldn’t surprise Shane. She’s always been the decisive one, ever since college. When they met each other across the hall their first day, Violet had, without hesitation, announced she would be a director one day. Shane, on the other hand, had simply shrugged. “Well, I’ll have a degree, I guess.”

Except he didn’t even end up having one of those. He’d dropped out halfway through, figuring he’d already spent enough money on English classes and had no idea what he was going to do with them. He wasn’t going to teach. And he doubted he was going to produce the next great American novel. So, what was the point?

He’d already been staying up way too late at the bar, bartending under the table. Even though he wasn’t twenty-one yet, with his height and beard, he looked it, and no one had questioned his fake ID. His boss, Ben, still thinks Shane is four years older than he actually is. God forbid he ever tells Ben he’s been lying. The hours weren’t bad and the tips were good. Tips he wouldn't be receiving as much from now on. Now he’s not working the evening shift.

Suddenly, dropping out seemed like the best option.

Plus, it’s New York. What else is he supposed to do?

“Isn’t there anyone else you could cast that would be easier?”

Violet shrugs. “I have Adam as your understudy. But,” her eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare make me use him, unless you’re actually dying.”

Ah, yes, Adam. Shane remembers the coffee barista, with the elfin twinkle in his eyes and a curly mop of hair on his head making him look like he’d just rolled out of bed. He’s probably the most stereotypical actor Shane has come into contact with in all his time in Brooklyn. From what he could tell, it would be best to steer clear of the other man. “He seems pretty confident, though.”

“Yeah. But he’s not who I want.”

“Why not?”

She stares directly into his eyes, and even after knowing her for nearly a decade, Shane is still caught a little off-guard by how intense and direct her stare is. “Because my gut says so. And I’m gonna trust it.”

Shane feels his shoulders slump. There’s no reasoning with her when she’s like this. “Well, if your gut says so…”

“It does.”

“Then,” he says reluctantly. “I guess I’m still in.”

Violet smiles smugly, like she expected nothing different. And she probably didn’t. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow night. Don’t stay up too late,” she grabs her wallet and clipboard, with its numerous papers, then throws herself off the stool, practically skipping as she leaves.

Shane groans, dropping his head to the counter. He feels like his entire body is collapsing in on itself and wishes he could simply lie on the floor, curl up in a ball, and go to sleep. Violet’s one of his closest friends, maybe his only friend if he thinks hard enough, but when she gets in that mood, dealing with her is an incredible drain. On top of that, he had an entire day dealing with meeting new people, and Shane just wants to disappear. Not work an entire night shift.

Get it together, Shane. Bartending, at least, he’s good at. He should be able to do this with his eyes closed.

“Hey, are you still serving, or just sitting there?” A random customer asks.

Shane wants to say he’s contemplating self-flagellation, but restrains himself. Instead, he straightens up. “My apologies. What can I get you?”

The next hour goes by in a blissful haze as Shane’s hands and body go on autopilot. As time goes by, people become louder and laugh more, and many drinks are ordered. Shane’s boss also stumbles in, giving a grunt and a nod as he stomps into the back room. Shane doesn’t expect a curly brown mop of hair to invade his line of sight, but suddenly, he’s greeted by a familiar face.

Adam, the barista, blinks bright blue eyes before jabbing a finger in his direction. “You again!”

Shane points at himself. “Me.”

They stare at each other and Shane can’t help but think how awkward this is, considering that Adam basically told Shane he would crash and burn earlier in the day.

Adam, on the other hand, seems to have zero compunctions, sliding onto the stool Violet had vacated an hour ago. “Have you always worked here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

Shane blinks, a little caught off guard by how normal Adam’s acting, compared to earlier. “For eight years.”

“I swear I’ve been in here before and never seen you.”

“Maybe you just saw my coworker.”

“Kinda weasley face?” Adam gestures to his own face. “Ponytail that looks like it wants to escape?”

Wow, he really doesn’t pull any punches. Smothering a chuckle, Shane nods. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Makes sense. I figure I would’ve remembered you,” Adam says, more to himself than to Shane.

Shane’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Oh, would you?”

Adam’s cheeks color ever so slightly, and he splutters. “Only because you’re so tall. It’s kinda hard to forget!”

Shane actually lets out a laugh this time. Despite Adam’s earlier rudeness, he’s surprisingly easy to talk to. “I can’t argue with that. What are you doing here anyway?”

Adam turns and gestures to one of the back tables, where another lone man sits, glass in hand. It’s the rude customer from earlier, and Shane cocks his head in surprise. “I’m on a date,” Adam explains.

“Huh. Seems like a…nice guy,” or someone Shane would gladly punch in the face, if he had the guts.

“You can tell that all the way from here?” Adam says, clearly amused.

“Sure. He has…” Shane searches for something to say. “Nice hair.”

Adam glances back quickly, before turning around again and shrugging. “I’ve seen better. Honestly,” and now, he leans closer over the counter, just enough so Shane can see the freckles dotting his cheeks, and the reddish tint to his hair. “I’m only here because I was bored after rehearsal, and my roommate kicked me out of my apartment because he was sick of seeing me practice.”

“Sounds like true romance.”

Adam snorts. “I don’t believe in that.”

“But you like Shakespeare!”

“Yeah, I like The Exorcist, too, but that doesn’t mean I believe demons actually possess girls on a regular basis.”

“You don’t?”

Adam shoots him a dirty look and Shane can’t help but grin again. Their confrontation earlier notwithstanding, Shane can’t help but like the guy. Maybe because his persistence and strong will remind him of Violet, maybe because he’s just so stereotypical when it comes to being an actor. He’s not sure. “Anyway, I guess I should get back.”

“Ah, yeah. What can I get you?”

“Cheapest beer, you’ve got,” Adam says, smacking his hand on the counter.

Shane snickers. “You’re going all out for him.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Shane shakes his head but procures the two beers. Adam raises a glass in thanks. “Catch you later,” he says, flashing a grin that’s all teeth. Then, he’s rejoining his date, and the two whisper and laugh at something together.

“You’re staring,” Ben mutters into his ear as he passes another customer a drink.

Shane jumps. He’d been so caught up in his conversation, he hadn’t even noticed Ben leave the back room to begin working the bar. “I am not.”

He straightens and begins cleaning spots on the counter that have probably been there since the 1900s. If nothing else, Adam had taken his mind off the impending doom of rehearsal. And just maybe, this will smooth over things work wise tomorrow.

Ben, apparently, is in a curious mood. “How do you know him?”

“Know is a strong word,” Shane chances a glance at Ben, who has an unimpressed look. Then again, he always has an unimpressed look, along with an ever-present frown on his face. Shane always figured that after owning a bar for over forty years, Ben didn’t see much he was impressed or surprised by.

Shane relents. “He’s technically a coworker now.”

“A coworker, huh?” Ben tilts his head thoughtfully. “From your new acting gig?”

“That’s right.”

Ben hums and Shane thinks he’s going to question him more. For a moment, his stomach drops, thinking he’ll have to relate this afternoon’s terribleness to Ben. But he’s saved when a new stream of customers interrupts. “Hand me that rag. You’ve been flirting with customers way too long and left me to do all the hard work.”

Flirting! Shane scoffs and throws Ben the rag as he begins taking more drink orders. Shane thinks that’s it for the Adam-being-nice saga, and the next time he’ll see him will be when he’s being insulted for his acting talent.

The other man surprises him, when around midnight, he hears a clear voice. “Oi, shove over,” he says to one of the customers. The slender man slides back into his seat from earlier and places his head on the counter.

Confused about why Adam is back, Shane says the only thing he can think of. “I don’t think that’s sanitary.”

Adam just shrugs, letting his head continue to loll on the counter. Shane wonders if he’ll wake up with herpes. That would definitely put a damper on rehearsals. “Dating sucks.”

“That bad?”

“Worse,” Adam mumbles into the counter. “Boring and thinks The Fast and the Furious series are bad movies. I mean,” he takes his head off the counter, eyes bright. “What are they even teaching people these days?”

That. Was not what Shane was expecting at all. “The Fast and the Furious is your breaking point?”

Adam throws his hands up. “Not you too!”

“I mean, they’re okay movies if you like car crashes.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, you’re joking. You cannot tell me you ended a date over The Fast and the Furious.”

Adam pauses, considering him and, to Shane’s never-ending supply of surprise, his cheeks flush slightly. “Not just The Fast and the Furious,” he agrees.

“What else then?”

Adam hesitates, examining the bar counter, the lights, anything but Shane. It’s odd, considering that in the short time he’s known Adam, he’s never seen him hesitate to speak his mind. Finally, Adam seems to make up his mind and locks eyes with Shane. He’s taken aback by the fire he sees there, the absolute righteousness that lights up Adam’s entire face. “He said the service here was shitty.”

Shane lets out a sigh and begins clearing the bar of empty glasses. “Is that it?” he says, lightly.

Adam frowns. “That doesn’t make you mad?”

“What’s the point in getting mad? You’re a barista, right? You don’t spend your entire day mad at customers do you?”

Adam says nothing, a guilty look on his face. Shane barks out a laugh, causing Adam to flush more, a defiant look spreading across his face. Shane swallows and has to admit it’s an attractive look. Distracted as he is, he almost misses Adam’s reply. “I don’t know how you don’t get mad. These shitty assholes couldn’t do what we do if someone slammed a pan over their head.”

“Anger’s never really been my thing,”

“Must be nice,” Adam drawls. “I nearly punched a customer, so they took me off the cash register.”

That somehow doesn’t surprise Shane. “They didn’t fire you?”

A devious smile spreads across Adam’s face, the earlier fire in Adam’s eyes returning. “I’m the only one that knows how to clean the machines. They can’t fire me.”

Shane snorts and continues to clean. “I wish I had your confidence.”

Adam hums, drumming his fingers on the bar top. They fall into a sort of companionable silence, Shane fetching the glasses surrounding the bar and Adam observing. His gaze is a little uncomfortable, but Shane doesn’t say anything, figuring the other man will leave when he becomes bored.

“About earlier,” Adam says. “With Kyle.”

Just what Shane wanted to talk about. “Yeah?” he replies, shooting for casual.

“I…well, I’m not always rational. Or, uh, tactful.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Adam visibly struggles for a second. “What I’m saying is, I say things before thinking. Or without ever thinking.”

Shane sighs. “If this is your version of an apology, don’t worry about it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Shane waves his hand in dismissal. “First days are always weird, you know?”

“I guess.”

Silence falls between them, as Shane pointedly doesn’t look at Adam, preferring to clean the glasses in front of him, though he can feel Adam’s gaze boring holes into his forehead.

Adam hops off his barstool. “Well. I better get going. See you at rehearsal?”

Shane nods, then Adam is gone. Shane’s glad to have a little peace of mind back, yet he almost misses Adam’s loud voice as night creeps toward dawn. Shane is soon left with only his own thoughts.