First Class ✈︎ Jack Harlow (BRIEF HIATUS)

Chapter One

"Shit, Jenna, it's starting to rain!"

I was walking with my roommate, Brie, from our apartment in Bywater to the nightclub she works at. "Barely Legal" is a really fitting name for a strip club that primarily employs local college students. I even had my own stint there - as a bartender though, not a dancer. Now, I just help out on special occasions. Tonight was not one of those nights, but Brie didn't feel like walking alone, so I came along.

Rain in New Orleans is a bad thing. Of course, it's common - but bad nonetheless. We are quite literally below sea level, so flooding happens fast. What is even worse is that we didn't bring nary an umbrella with us, and Brie already fixed her hair and a good portion of her makeup before we left our apartment. We only live about a 20 minute walk from Barely, so packing for the trip wasn't exactly on either of our minds.

We booked it for the closest dry area. There was a small, boarded-up door that could've fit half a person underneath the overhang of it on a good day. We rounded the corner so quickly to get under it that we didn't even realize someone was already there until I had completely body-checked them.

"Holy shit - what the hell?" A tall, young man with curly hair half-chuckled, half-yelled at us. If it wasn't daylight, we could've missed him. He was donning an all black outfit, with his hood up and sunglasses on.

"Oh fuck - I am so sorry. We were so worried about getting out of the rain - "

"We?" Brie cut me off. "Girl, I did not just body slam this man to get under here. I'm not even in!" She snapped as she stood mostly in the rain, her hair already starting to flatten.

"Shit, Brie, I'm sorry!" I moved out of the way so she could slide in, and I was on the edge, slightly in the rain, but mostly dry.

Brie hesitated. She looked at the stranger next to us. "Uh, this cool?"

"Gotta do what you gotta do - I respect the hustle," the man half-smiled and nodded with a wave, looking across the street.

Brie laughed. "I've only seen Jenna run like that when she misses her alarm and is trying to make it to campus before her 8 AM."

I fake laughed. Gee, thanks for calling me out, Brie.

He looked at me. "What's your major?"

Still irritated and wet from partially getting rained on, I huffed, "Secondary education."

He took a sharp breath in, fake wincing. "Why?"

"Because I'm passionate about learning."

"But not about a paycheck?" he laughed.

"It's not about the money," I snapped. "I've got Brie for that, anyways," I half-chuckled.

He raised an eyebrow, silently prodding at her career.

"I'm a dancer. At Barely Legal on Bourbon Street."

He nodded in approval, then looked at me. "So, why don't you dance?" he asked.

"First of all, I am both painfully anxious and awkward. Second of all, I don't know what makes you think I need the extra money. For all you know, I'm a trust fund baby."

"You just don't seem the type."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You just feel down-to-earth to me."

"And I'm perfectly comfortable with my lifestyle and career goals. But, thanks for your unsolicited opinion," I scoffed.

"I didn't mean it like that," he responded apologetically.