Claiming the Golden Boy

The new bar across the street opened with a gimmick: drink ten, stay on your feet, and you walk out with anything in the house.

So I drank all ten. Didn't blink.

Then I took the prettiest thing in the place by the wrist, the bartender, and walked him toward the door.

The owner had been smooth all night. Silver fox, three-piece vest, unbothered by anything. That was the moment his face finally went.

"Kid." A pause. "Put my son down."

Chapter 1

"The owner's a total silver-fox menace, and I'm not okay about it." Cami had me by the sleeve, hauling me toward the bar that had finally opened across the street.

"He's old," I said. "You cannot handle old."

Her last breakup was a man nine years up, and it had left a mark. I had receipts.

"I have boundaries now." A lie. Then, like it was nothing: "Also. Opening night. Ten drinks, stay standing, you walk out with anything in the place."

We looked at each other.

Here's the thing about me. I inherited exactly one trait from my father, and it wasn't the cheekbones. It was a liver that does not quit. So a bar handing out prizes for drinking wasn't a challenge.

It was a shopping trip.

Inside, it was packed. Loud, warm, three deep at the bar.

Cami towed me to the front, where a lanky guy was tipping back a glass with five, six empties lined up in front of him. He didn't finish it. He swayed, went a little green, and shoved through the crowd toward the bathroom.

The room booed.

"Not bad, kid, not bad." The voice came from behind the bar. "Anyone else feeling brave?"

I went up on my toes to look.

Older guy. Annoyingly handsome about it. Three-piece vest, half his hair pulled back. The kind of man who knew exactly how good he looked and had decided to be casual about it.

Beside me, Cami had hearts coming out of her eyes. "God. He's pretty."

Then she grabbed my wrist and shot it into the air. "We've got a challenger!"

The whole room turned.

I froze, then peeled my mouth into something like a smile. "I'll, uh. Give it a shot?"

The owner glanced over and smiled. "These bite, sweetheart."

I walked up. There was already a fresh glass waiting.

"Go on, then."

One. Two. Three.

The calmer I drank, the more the faces around me came apart.

At five he held up a hand. "Easy. These are cocktails, not water."

I waved him off and picked up the next one.

He stopped talking after that.

The crowd went quiet by degrees, everyone craning to watch me work. I didn't drag it out. Nine empty glasses, then the last one.

Slam.

"YES." "She's a machine." "Where does she PUT it?"

While they lost their minds, I was already shopping.

I scanned the room, and my eyes caught on the far corner of the bar.

Under the low light, a guy in a white shirt stood with his head bent, polishing a glass. Quiet. Long lashes throwing shadows down his cheeks. Long fingers moving slow over the rim.

My glass stopped halfway to the bar top. I forgot, for a second, that I owned a tongue.

"See something you like, kid?"

I hiccuped. "Anything goes?"

The owner gave me a smug little smile. "Relax. If it's in my bar, it's yours."

I nodded. Took my time.

Cami tugged my sleeve and whispered, "Back right. The blue bottle. That one's pricey."

I looked where she pointed.

Then I walked the other way.

"Yeah," Cami said. "Nail it, bab"

She didn't finish.

Neither did anyone else.

The whole bar went dead silent.

Chapter 2

I clamped onto the bartender's arm and made for the door like I had a train to catch.

The owner, smooth all night, finally lost it.

"Hey. Hey!" He came around the bar. "Kid. Put my son down."

I turned. "You said anything in the bar."

His eye twitched. "He's not a thing."

I looked back at the gorgeous man I was currently abducting and reported, deadpan, "He says you're not a thing."

The owner opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

The bartender's face did something complicated for half a second. Then he laughed, low, like it caught him off guard.

"You're really something," he started.

I didn't let him finish. I got a better grip on his arm and towed him out the front door.

Behind me, Cami's voice cracked across the whole room. "HOLY. That WORKED?"

I swear it wasn't the alcohol.

It's that I knew this bartender.

Caleb Reed. The golden boy of my old high school. Valedictorian, untouchable, the kind of pretty that made teachers forgive him things. Also the boy I'd spent the better part of three years quietly, hopelessly into.

The cold air hit my face and my head, fuzzy a second ago, went clear. Where my hand wrapped his arm, his skin ran hot enough to leave a print.

I let go like he was a stove.

"I'm so. So."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"Sorry."

I held his eyes for exactly one second, then found somewhere else to put mine. Ten cocktails and I hadn't flushed once. Now my whole face was on fire.

Wonderful. To him I was officially the drunk girl who kidnaps strangers. Five stars, would recommend.

I'd heard things, back in school. Parents split early, home life complicated. By my count he'd just finished college this year. So what was he doing pulling shifts in a bar?

And calling that smug man at the taps dad?

Something went sour in my chest. A guy like him didn't belong in a room like that. I hadn't thought past getting him out of it.

Now we stood on the sidewalk, staring at each other, and it was deeply, physically awkward.

Someone burst out of the bar behind us, spotted us, and lit up.

"Miss?" He hurried over. "The one who came in with you. She's your friend, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"She just put away ten cocktails and now she's trying to leave with our boss."

I said nothing.

Caleb turned his head and looked at me. "Stella." A beat. "Is your friend angling to be my godmother?"

He said my name like he'd been saying it for years. Like it was already filed somewhere with my face on it. I didn't have time to ask how he knew it, because my best friend was about to summit a grown man like he was a stepladder.

I bolted back inside.

I knew Cami's limit better than she did. Three drinks. On a good night.

When I got in, she had both arms locked around the owner's and zero intention of letting go.

Caleb came up beside me and nodded at the man. "That's Dorian. Technically my godfather."

"Got it," I said. "Noted."

On our side of the room, peace. On theirs, open war.

"Kid. Off." The owner's voice dropped, his whole suave act one tug from falling apart.

Cami's face was cherry red. Gone. Completely gone.

She shook her head and hugged his arm tighter. "Nope. You said it yourself. Anything in the bar, I can take."

The second the words left her mouth, every spectator in the place swung to look at me.

I had, after all, just left with a bartender.

The owner found me in the crowd.

"You. Yeah, you." He jerked his chin at the human barnacle on his arm. "Come get your friend."

Chapter 3

My whole body seized like I'd been Tased. I lunged, peeled Cami off the man's shoulder before she noticed, threw her over mine, and ran without looking back.

So humiliating.

At that point we might as well have dropped trou in the town square.

I hauled her dead weight out the door. On the way I caught the sign over the entrance.

Blossom.

Cute. Very on theme for a place I'd be heartbroken to never see again.

Whatever. Never coming back.

Somewhere behind me I half-clocked footsteps, like someone was following us. But I was red in the face, teeth gritted, hauling a hundred-plus pounds of unconscious best friend. Not my photo-op moment. I sucked in one last breath and got us out of there.

I dumped Cami into her bed and slid down the wall to the floor, finished. She was out cold. The apartment went quiet, inch by inch.

Only then could I run the night back, slow.

I never thought I'd see Caleb again like that. Which dragged up the first time I ever saw him at all.

Sophomore year. Still settling in.

"Stella. Up to the board. Take this one."

I was somewhere else entirely when the teacher said my name. My soul nearly left my body.

Context: I'd tested into Hawthorne on a miracle and a prayer. The classes moved fast and mean, I was already underwater, and now I was being marched to the front to perform.

The room went silent. Every head tipped up at me.

Cold sweat. I read the problem three times and understood exactly none of it.

"Stella? Pick up the chalk. It's not hard."

Mr. Donovan. Helpful as a brick wall.

I said nothing.

"Excuse me." A clear voice from the doorway.

I turned without meaning to.

A lanky boy stood backlit in the door, too bright to make out. "Mr. Donovan. Here to grab my class's tests."

The ice on Mr. Donovan's face melted on contact. "Caleb. One sec, I left them in the office. Let me run get them."

So that was Caleb. The one who'd tested in first in the whole grade.

The teacher hurried off. I was still stranded at the board. I turned my head and looked at the boy. Behind me the class had already dissolved into chatter. Nobody was watching the two of us.

Caleb came a few steps closer. Glanced at the board, then at me.

"Stuck?"

I nodded. Honest. "Yeah."

He pointed at one line. "Try the identity here."

He looked right at me when he said it.

I nodded fast, stared at the problem, and pretended to think.

In reality I was holding exactly two thoughts.

One: this boy was unfairly good-looking.

Two: what, in the name of God, was a trig identity.

Somehow I still landed the answer.

I never did remember how to solve it.

I remembered the boy named Caleb.

And then I carried him around for three years.

God. Pathetic. Truly pathetic.

What I had not accounted for was Cami's face being even thicker than mine.

"Come with me. One more time."

I shook my head. "I'm out of face to lose."

"That man is living rent-free in my chest," she said. "I walk away now, I've been robbed."

She'd done her homework, she informed me. All of it.

Chapter 4

Dorian, as it turned out, wasn't actually old. Thirty-seven. Eight years up on Cami. Which, to her, made him less a red flag and more a personal dare.

Classic moth. She could see the flame, she knew it was a flame, and she was already shopping for lighter fluid.

Not me. I value my life.

When she saw I wouldn't budge, Cami quit arguing and left for the bar on her own.

"Don't drink!" I yelled after her.

Ten minutes later I had my bag, my shoes on, and one foot out the door.

Her tolerance is a public hazard. There was no version of the night where I sat home.

Blossom was still slammed. I didn't dare go in, so I parked across the street at Daybreak, the coffee shop facing the bar. If Cami needed me, I could be through that door in five seconds.

"Here's your Americano."

Someone set it down beside me. I kept my eyes on the bar's door. "Just leave it"

"Hm?"

That voice. I knew that voice.

I turned around in pure dread.

"Caleb? Why are you here?"

He was in a coffee-shop apron, setting my cup down like he'd done it a thousand times.

"Isn't it obvious. I'm working."

I pointed across the street. "Aren't you the bartender? Over there?"

The corner of his mouth moved. "Bar's Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Here it's Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday."

Right.

Two jobs. The boy was grinding himself to the bone. And I, apparently, was cursed.

When his shift wound down, he carried over a coffee of his own and sat across from me. I blinked.

"You keep watching the bar," he said. "Worried about your friend?"

"She can't really drink."

"She's fine. The boss keeps an eye on the room."

The boss being Dorian.

I hesitated, then went for it. "About last time. I'm sorry. My friend and I caused a scene and wrecked your whole event."

"It's fine," he said. "Thanks to you two, the place had a great night."

I let out a breath. "Good."

"Though I do want to ask one thing."

"Hm?"

"What exactly was going through your head?"

I nearly sent my coffee across the table.

A few seconds of silence.

Then, with great sincerity: "You're hot. I had ideas. I've since reflected deeply on my behavior and grown as a person. Please forgive me."

As if. Like I was going to tell him the truth, that I'd been trying to rescue a wayward youth from a den of vice.

Caleb looked at me, something unreadable behind his eyes. I didn't risk looking back. I turned to the window.

And, perfect timing, a deeply familiar shape came stumbling out of the bar.

Oh no.

Cami. Weaving. Visibly hammered.

Two guys peeled off the doorway right behind her, drifting closer with every step.

I was up and shoving through the cafe door before I'd decided to be.

I didn't even make it across the street. Dorian was already out.

"Hey. What's the idea?" He crossed to Cami and gave the two men one flat look. "My place. And you want to try something in it?"

They traded a glance, tucked their chins, and wandered off.

Dorian steadied Cami by the arm. "Kid. How are you this much of a lightweight?"

Cami squinted up at him. Then she leaned in, tapped the tip of his nose, and grinned.

"Naughty. If I could actually hold my liquor, you'd never have come out here for me, would you?"

Dorian said nothing