"Can I get another shot of rum, please?" Charlotte asked, slurring just enough to make the bartender raise an eyebrow.
She was drunk. Maybe because she'd spent the whole week single-handedly ruining her parents' BMW agency while they were off on some business trip in Dubai. Typical.
"Girl, I think you should slow down. That's your tenth shot today," the bartender said - her voice low, smooth almost too calm.
Charlotte looked up.
The woman had a sharp jawline, a black tailleur that hugged her curves in the worst (or best) way, and a ponytail that screamed control me or be controlled.
God. Charlotte was too tired to tell which she wanted more.
Trin-trin.
Her phone buzzed against the sticky bar surface.
"Hello babe," Steven's voice came through the speaker. Sweet, annoying Steven. "You okay? Where are you?"
"I'm in a club, I'm so tired," she mumbled slouching father into the bar.
"Want me to come get you?"
"No, don't bother yourself, I can make it home alone," she replied, a little colder than she meant.
She could almost hear his frown through the line.
"Okay, but—"
Click. She hung up.
Was she rude? Maybe. But she was too exhausted to pretend tonight. Too done to keep being someone else's perfect girlfriend.
"Boyfriend?" the bartender asked casually, sliding the next shot toward her.
Charlotte scoffed. "Something like that. He's sweet. Too sweet. Like melted marshmallow sweet. Not the kind you want. The kind that sticks to your fingers and makes everything annoying."
The bartender chuckled. "Rough night, huh?"
Charlotte tilted her head. "You have no idea."
The music thumped louder in the background, vibrating through her spine. The crowd shifted—bodies moving, laughing, kissing like nothing in the world was falling apart.
She envied them.
Everything about Charlotte was a contradiction. Expensive shirt, but shoes with scuffed soles. A designer watch she never set the time on. Perfectly brushed long dark hair, but an expression that screamed Don't talk to me unless you're God or bring fries.
She took the shot in one go.
And just as she slammed the glass down—
"Rough week too?" the bartender asked, now leaning in with a glint in her eye.
Charlotte blinked. "Why?"
"Because no one drinks like that unless something's broken."
Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, but something about the way this woman stared at her made the words evaporate. So she shrugged.
"You know, I think I've seen you before," the bartender said. "Two years ago. Wasn't there some rich girl with a terrible attitude who tried to flirt with me and then passed out in the bathroom?"
Charlotte narrowed her eyes.
"You mean the one who said, 'If I buy three more shots will you dance with me behind the bar?'"
"That's the one," the bartender said, grinning.
"Oh my God." Charlotte buried her face in her hands. "I was so drunk."
"You were also wearing that ridiculous red suit jacket."
"Okay, now you're bullying me."
The bartender leaned closer, lowering her voice. "I liked it, actually."
Charlotte peeked at her through her fingers. "What's your name?"
"Annabelle."
Of course it was. Gorgeous and lethal. The kind of name that lingers in your mind for weeks.
"I'm Charlotte."
"I remember."
Their eyes held.
Then—
Trin-trin.
Charlotte's phone again.
Melissa. Of course.
She let it ring out.
Annabelle smirked. "Popular girl."
"More like surrounded by people I don't feel anything for."
There. She said it. Out loud.
And it felt oddly freeing.
---
FLASHBACK – 2 YEARS AGO
It was the same bar. Same city. Different Charlotte.
Back then, she had walked in with heels too high and confidence too fake. Her parents had just promoted her to junior executive, and she thought it meant something.
She spotted Annabelle right away.
The bartender with the calm eyes and sharp tongue.
They flirted. Charlotte drank. She said something about escaping, about kissing a stranger to forget who she was.
Annabelle leaned in and said, "Then pick the right stranger."
But Charlotte didn't. She got scared. Left the number on a napkin and disappeared into a relationship with Steven, who was all stability and zero chaos.
Safe. Boring. Wrong.
---
BACK TO PRESENT
"I think I needed tonight," Charlotte said softly.
Annabelle tilted her head. "Why?"
"To remember who I used to be."
Annabelle's lips twitched. "And who was that?"
"A hot mess," Charlotte said, then grinned. "But at least an honest one."
Silence settled between them, thick but not uncomfortable.
Then, Charlotte asked, "You still work here every night?"
"Only Wednesdays and Saturdays. I'm a doctor now."
Charlotte choked. "Wait, what?"
"I'm serious. Bartending's just for fun. Day job's emergency medicine."
"Wow," Charlotte said, blinking. "So you're basically a badass."
Annabelle leaned in. "You have no idea."
Charlotte laughed.
And for the first time in weeks, she felt... okay.
God. Charlotte was too tired to tell her wish she wanted more