Malia glared at the grad student across the bar. He'd been staring up at the bar menu for over fifteen minutes.

"What's the difference between an IPA and a stout?"

Why did they always ask these types of questions? It was beer. She didn't drink it. All she knew was that beer tasted like piss. And the only real difference was with the temperature.

Sometimes people tried to color beer up and make it taste like peanut butter and jelly, or flowers or whatever, but at the end of the day, it still tasted like piss. "One is a dark, bolder flavor. The other is lighter," she replied.

That's what she’d been taught to say. Because she couldn't really say the piss thing. That would cost her her job. And she needed this job. Just like she needed all of her other jobs. She was holding on to them for as long as possible, even though many of them made her insane.

Friday and Saturday nights were usually the bar. Though she picked up extra shifts where she could. Sober car was great because she set her own schedule via an app. The best nights for most earning potential were Wednesday nights through the weekend. So after her shift tonight, she’d pick up some money with Sober Car.

There was the maid gig, usually four hour shifts on Mondays and Wednesdays. She also worked rotating shifts of four hours, three times a week at various dorm desks and the student center. That job was the easiest because it was prime get-work-done time. Then she also babysat for one of her former professors whenever they called and their usual nanny was unavailable. With each of her jobs there was enough flexibility that she could schedule around her classes. Most shifts she scheduled online or through an app called Student Work Planner. She’d been approved to work certain gigs, so she went in and picked up hours where she could.

She turned her attention back to the grad student. He still looked unsure.

Malia gave him the once-over. Wiry, curling hair sticking out in all directions. His button-down shirt buttoned all the way to the top and tucked into his khakis. He was on a date. He wanted to impress. But he also wanted to look like he casually knew what he was doing. She leaned forward. "Look. I can tell you're not really a beer guy and don't really know what to order. How about I make you a fruity drink and stick it in a mule cup? That way no one will know what you're drinking."

His shoulders visibly sagged in relief. "Thanks. I can't stand the taste of beer. But I'm on a double date. They mostly just ordered beer. I have no idea what to get. I barely even drink."

"Don't worry. I gotcha." She was doing her part to save the world. Helping the poor guy save a little face and giving him a fruity, girly drink for his troubles. She finished making his drink and put it in front of him, and he slid her an extra five for a tip.

Score. Granted, she would never personally see any of this money. Most of that money would pass right through her bank account and straight to her aunt, but every little bit helped. And that was why she was doing this. After she served a couple more beers down at the end of the bar and wiped up a spill from the new bartender, she turned to the drunken frat boy leering at her. "Is there something you need? Because I'm not serving you anymore."

"Why the fuck not? I’m not that drunk."

Considering her partner in crime, Travis, had already warned her he'd given the guy six beers, four shots, and some flaming drink thing before he took his break, Malia knew better than that. "Nope. I can smell you from here."

"We’re at a bar."

Why was this her life? "Still not serving you. You can barely stand on your own without propping yourself up on the bar counter, and I know how many drinks Travis gave you. Not going to happen."

His friends that were crowding around behind him howled with laughter. "Yeah, she told you."

Fuck, she wished they hadn't done that. Because that only added the burn and sting of embarrassment along with the burn of being told no. Which meant she was going to have to handle him a different way if she wasn’t careful.

He glanced back at his friends then back at her. “What the fuck is wrong with you anyway? You don’t like money?" His gaze scanned over her and she felt like a layer of slime had been applied to her skin. "From the looks of it, big tits, tight top, attitude, you seem like that type who would want to take my money. Question is what do you want to do to get it?"

Ahh, so an ass kicking was imminent. She subtly reached under the bar and wrapped her hand around the bat that Stu, the owner, kept there. Travis was on break; the new bartender at the other end of the bar was pretty useless at this point (the bar was probably breaking several fire code violations for overcrowding); and Tony, the bouncer, had his hands full at the front door. So if there was trouble, she was the only one capable of handling it. Just like always.

"You see, here's the problem. You seem to think that I give a shit what you think. That was your first mistake. Second mistake was insulting me. As I have the power to call over the bouncer anytime and decide to toss you from the bar just because I don't like how you look. Third,, I'm in a shit-poor mood tonight, and it is a visible effort for me to control myself from telling you all about yourself. You might want to take your boys and go drink somewhere else because you're not getting another one here."

She normally kept a tight rein on her temper. But this douche bag with a liberal sprinkling of creeper got her hackles up. Lucky for her Tony was working the door tonight. She liked Tony. She didn't like many people. But he looked out for her.

Added bonus? She didn't have to worry about Tony ever hitting on her. He had a partner, Kyle, who was about thirty years old and worked in tech or whatever. They couldn't be more complete opposites. Tony, the complete mountain of a man, with bulging muscles and shaved head. He looked, well, like a bouncer. Or thug. Or like he was in some kind of motorcycle gang or something. Kyle was slim-built, handsome, and always well-dressed. And small. Like maybe 5’8”. Which was about her height. But the two of them were actually quite cute together.

Back when she'd been in her old apartment, she had them over for dinner once. You won’t be doing that anymore now, will you? She swallowed the bitter taste of the truth.

Frat boy glared at her, looking at her like she was some kind of insect. "What the hell are you anyway? Black, maybe Hispanic?" He leaned over the bar, so close to her, his rank breath threatened to fell her. “I’ve never fucked a sister up against the wall in the alley out back, but hey, it looks like you need to be taught a lesson.” He added an extra flare of pizzazz with a snap of his fingers when he said sister, and that's what tipped her into kill mode.

"What am I? All bitch.” She was up and over the bar in seconds with the baseball bat in tow.

Frat dude stumbled back as she gently laid the bat on the bar. “You don't drink in here anymore. You’re on the blacklist. Tony or any of the staff see you in here again, you're getting tossed and not all nice and gently like I’m doing it now.”

Tony must have seen her little hurdle jump because he was already shoving aside people to create a part in the sea of students. This was the most popular bar near campus. Everyone came here. On the busy nights, it was like an endless river of people. This was Thursday, and it was still more packed than usual. But tomorrow no one would be able to move. She'd be sixteen deep at the bar.

Frat boy scowled. "You can't do that. You fucking —" He didn't get to finish whatever it was he was going to say (which was most likely “bitch”) because Tony had him by the collar and was physically dragging him toward the door.

Malia turned her attention to his friends. "You boys are still invited to come on back whenever you like. You act like your friend there, the same thing happens to you. You wouldn’t like that would you?" She made a point to level a gaze at each and every one of them directly. No looking away, no sly smile. Direct. That was how you handled monsters and assholes. And every single one of them backed off and nodded their acquiescence.

She glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. Thank God. Travis would finish up the shift as she had Sober Car to drive tonight, but she still needed to figure out her sleeping situation for the night.

Emily was supposed to be her bed for the night. As Malia searched the bar, she didn't see her at first. When she finally spotted Emily, her bestie was attached at the lips to her boyfriend, Mac. But what the hell else was new? The two of them were crazy into each other. What worried her was when she saw Max’s roommate Jason making out with some freshman. Likely he'd be taking that girl back to his place. Mac and Jason still lived in a dorm. So that meant zero privacy.

Which meant Emily would be taking Mac back to her place. Which means you're shit out of luck for a place to sleep tonight. Fuck a duck.

She slid her glance from Emily and Mac back to Jason. She had no other options. She’d be sleeping in the Sober Car tonight.

* * *

Fuck me.

Zephyr’s skin itched as he tried his best to ignore Eva. He thought she worked at the dorm. What the hell?

For three days the memory of that laugh had been taunting him every night. And if he was entirely honest, most of the days too. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his damn head.

You’d better. You remember what happened last time you had this feeling. It was precisely why he’d left her in front of her building. He’d felt the pull. The draw into her orbit. And he’d nearly been pulled in. Until he remembered the life he'd left behind.

“Yo, man. Where the fuck are you right now?”

Zephyr snapped out of it and turned his attention back to Cooper Reynolds. “Sorry. I’m just out of it. Go on. Give me the lay of the land. How’s Pittsburgh treating you?”

Cooper narrowed his eyes. Probably because he could tell that his friend was deflecting, but Zephyr didn’t want to get into it. “You know it’s cool. The program’s tough, but I love it.”

Zephyr rolled his eyes. “All work, and no play makes Cooper a dull boy.”

His best friend laughed. “Some play.” He shrugged. “I mean, you know me. But I’ve got my focus hat on.”

That was just the thing. He did know Cooper. The guy had always been a little tightly wound, keeping his feelings close to the vest. Zephyr knew why, but he’d hoped time away from home would loosen Cooper up a little. “Come on dude. You’ve got to have some fun sometime.”

Cooper grinned and winked but kept his lips shut. And sure enough a gorgeous brunette sashayed on by, eyeing Cooper up and down. Cooper gave her a friendly smile back, but his posture sent a clear message. Not interested.

“Don’t deflect. I see you eyeing the bartender.” Cooper shook his head. “Don’t know man. That one seems like trouble. I feel like you’ve had enough on your plate, right?”

Zephyr still refused to look over at her even though he itched to hear her laugh again. “You’re not wrong. I’m just trying to get my head on straight.”

“Uh huh. Is that why you’re nearly breaking your neck by not looking at her?”

“Shut up.” He didn't need Cooper all over his ass.

Cooper chuckled. “Who is she?”

“Her name is Eva. I met her at a faculty function a couple of days ago. She’s—I dunno. There’s something different about her, but you're right. I don’t need that particular brand of headache. Especially not after what just happened.”

Cooper was silent for a moment. “Look, for real though, how are you doing? When we talked and you said you were taking the fellowship, I was surprised. Columbia was a dream of yours.”

Zephyr swallowed. “You sound like my dad.”

“Well.” Cooper shrugged. “I never thought you’d take a step like this. And after everything that went down, I want to make sure you’re cool.”

How long would everything from New York follow him around?

Zephyr sagged. Of course, Cooper was looking out for him. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just trying to focus and not get distracted.”

His friend’s lips twisted in a wry smirk. “You mean by blond bartenders with killer racks.”

“Fuck, dude, you’re not helping.”

Cooper laughed. “I’m an asshole, I know. She’s cute though. Just, you know, be careful. I'm not sure this one wants saving.”

“Not going to happen. I’m done with that. I can’t want for someone what they don't want for themselves. I learned that lesson.”

“So no more saving damsels in distress?”

He shook his head. “Nope.” He swallowed the lie. “I’m not doing that anymore.”

Cooper frowned. “So you don’t want to know that she’s got trouble right now?”

Zephyr’s head snapped around and he watched with horror and pride and she scrambled over the bar. He couldn’t hear what the hell she was saying, but the bouncer was too far away.

He stood, and Cooper was on his feet to back him up. There was no rational thought involved. Zephyr was out of the booth in a second, trying to wade through the sea of people.

The massive behemoth of a bouncer beat them to her. In seconds, he had the guy she’d been threatening in a choke hold and headed for the door.

After Eva spoke to some other guys that looked like they belonged on team Frat Douche, she calmly walked back around the bar, bat in tow.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way I’m going to talk you out of this?” Cooper asked.

This is stupid. You know how this is going to end. But like that idiotic moth to the proverbial flame, he couldn’t help it. “No.”

He found her at the bar lugging a box around. “Hey, Eva.”

The moment her gaze lifted to his she stumbled, and he caught the box of glasses. “Shit. What are you doing here?”

Zephyr shrugged. “I’m a student, remember? This is a student bar. Take a guess.”

She parted her lips to say something then snapped them shut. Instead she took the box back from him. “Excuse me. I need to get these out of the way.”

“Let me help.”

She shook her head, sending her curls flying. “Didn't ask for your help.”

“I know. But I’m giving it to you anyway.” He held up the box. “Where do you want this?”

She set her jaw but eventually inclined her head toward the stairs to his left. “Down there. “

You are playing with fire.

It was fine. He could do this. He was just doing her a favor. He was not going to repeat his past mistakes. Yeah you are.

Careful of the dark, he navigated the stairs. “Where do you want it?”

She was right behind him and hit the lights somewhere along the wall. “Right on the left.”

When he put the box down he turned to face her. “I saw what happened. You sure you’re okay?”

She nodded. “Yep. Not the first time I've had to use Betsy.”

“Betsy?”

“The bat. Stu named her. He’s the owner.”

“Well I’m glad you had Betsy. And the mammoth guy who dragged the asshole out.”

She shifted on her feet. “Well, uh, thanks.” She indicated the box.

“No problem. Listen, about the other night ...” His voice trailed.

She winced. “I’m still complicated. And cute as you are, you’re not really my type.”

Bullshit. He was in so much shit. Way to not repeat the patterns of before. He was doing it again. Getting too drawn in. But he could see it in her eyes. She felt it too.

“It’s cool. Maybe in another lifetime. I need to get back to work.”

She turned to head back up the stairs and he didn’t know what possessed him, but he reached out for her and tugged her hand. Her gaze snapped down to their intertwined fingers. “What?”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I want to complicate your life just a little bit more.” And then he leaned down and wrapped his hand around her lower back. For a long moment, she stood frozen.

Electric currents ran over his skin, and he knew he was playing with fire but he couldn’t stop himself. She gasped and parted her lips as a shudder ran through her. Zephyr groaned low and dragged her closer. His tongue slid over hers, and he couldn't think. She tasted like something sweet and sinful and dangerous, and he couldn’t stop.

When he sucked on her bottom lip, she moaned, meeting his tongue with her own and lazily looping her hands around his neck. She threaded her fingers into his hair, making Zephyr growl, his possessive nature coming through.

She was so soft. His thumbs traced over her hipbones, and she shivered. Angling his head and deepening their kiss, Zephyr kept up the teasing until she panted and breathed out a soft whimper.

The devil made him do it. At least that’s what he’d tell himself later about backing her against the wall and going for broke with the kiss. With his hands in her soft curls, he angled her head so he could kiss her deeper, pressed up against her like this.

Fuck. So bad. But so. Fucking. Good. At least his dick thought so as the damn thing was trying to defect to the other side.

Malia whimpered again and parted her long, lean legs, giving him access. When he rocked his hips into her, she shivered. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was all too quick. Too much. Too good. But once the avalanche was going, it couldn’t be stopped.

The roar in his skull drowned out all rational thinking, all reasonable thought. And he just wanted to get as close to her as humanly possible. When she started to move her hips over his thigh, he nearly exploded.

With every movement, his dick throbbed, begging for escape, praying for release, pleading for assistance. It was like a race to chase the fire and right now they were both stumbling over each other, trying to get the prize.

But then she stiffened in his arms, and a shudder wracked her body. What the—Oh fuck. Did she just—

“Eva? Was that—?”

She dragged her eyes open. The dark green depths were glassy and unfocused.

Shit, she’d just come.

The mix of triumph and the desire to make her come again was so strong he was desperate to slide off her tank and tug down her shorts to see if she tasted as sweet as she promised.

But she wasn't giving him a lazy, knowing smile. No. Her eyes were wide, lips parted, but she was pushing at his chest. She was embarrassed. And you should be too.

But somehow, he couldn’t muster the sentiment.

She shoved at him again and he let her go. “Eva, look—”

“This—” She cleared her throat. “That isn’t happening again. Not now. Not ever.”

His legs shook. Likely because all the blood in his body was currently in his dick. He had no choice but to lean against the wall for support.

Eva had just thrown down the gauntlet.