By the time my third class finally lets out, exhaustion has settled into my bones like it plans on staying a while. I pack up slowly and head back to the loft, nearly stumbling on the stairs.
I change clothes in a blur, tugging off my jacket and pulling my work shirt on. I quickly touch up my hair and splash water on my face, as if it might actually do something. It doesn’t, but it’s worth the try.
I make it to the bar with a minute to spare.
Inside, the energy is different from the night before. Not as packed—hockey season starting up seems to be pulling some of the usual crowd away. There are a couple of new people working tonight, and with shorter shifts, it should go by fast.
Which is probably a good thing. Because slower nights have a way of letting exhaustion creep back in, and I’m already running on empty.
Sasha spots me immediately. “Hey,” she says, bumping my shoulder as she passes. “Tonight’s gonna be another busy one.”
“I’m too tired for it to be slow anyway.” I shrug.
She grins. “There’s a hockey scrimmage tonight. Preseason thing. Most of the students will be there, and apparently, the guys from the hockey house are throwing something after.”
My stomach gives a small, unwelcome flip at the mention of the team.
“That makes sense,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual. Although, my mind drifts to Cooper, to the possibility of seeing him again, somewhere away from the ice and my father.
And suddenly, the thought of sleep feels far away.
Sasha leans in like she’s sharing a secret. “You should come with me.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “To where? The party?” I ask, and Sasha nods. “I don’t know. I’m not really…”
“A party person?” she finishes for me. “Neither am I. That’s why we should go together. We can have a couple of drinks, and I promise we can leave whenever you’re over it.”
I hesitate, fingers tightening around the towel in my hands. Behind the bar, I can keep things simple with small talk while I’m taking orders. It’s an excuse to keep moving. A crowded house full of strangers means too many people, the possibility of conversations and questions I’m not ready to answer.
My pulse kicks up just thinking about it.
But so does the idea of saying no.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
Sasha lifts a brow. “That’s a yes.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue.
Because the truth is, I’d rather go out than go back to my loft alone. Sitting with my thoughts—with my father, with Cooper, with everything I’ve been avoiding—sounds worse than any party ever could.
At least there, I won’t have to sit with it or pretend I’m not thinking about him.
Even if it means running straight into him again.
The rest of my shift passes in a blur of refilling drinks, wiping down the bar, and nodding through half-hearted conversations about the games on the big screens. By the end of my shift, my feet ache, and I feel wrung out.
Sasha waves me off an hour early, and I don’t argue. I clock out and grab my purse, stopping by the bar on my way out the door. Sasha looks at me expectantly. I hesitate for a second before nodding.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll come.”
Her smile is immediate. “That’s my girl.”
I slip out the back door and head upstairs. I shower quickly, scrubbing away the smell of beer and fryer oil, then throw on a pair of jeans and a plain black tee, and slip on a pair of sneakers.
I spend a little more time on my hair, twisting it into a messy bun before adding a swipe of red lipstick. That’s about as good as it’s going to get with me.
When I step outside, Sasha is already leaning against her car, keys dangling from her fingers.
