Last One Standing

1 | HoldenCarter31

RILEY'S WAS LIT FOR AMBIANCE AND THE SECRECY OF ITS PATRONS. Five blocks from Trinity college, it became wall-to-wall rammed during term and ghostly barren outside of it. It wasn't just a place to secure decent tips that paid for my off-campus housing—we were a family.

I knotted my apron as I sidestepped around the pool table over to the row of mahogany bar stools that butted up against the brass foot rail.

Jane hunched over the draining tray, perched on a barstool, blonde hair swept up in a messy bun, looking far too glamorous for a dive bar. Her fixed concentration cracked with a smile as she beckoned me to the stool next to her.

She slid over a bowl of citrus fruit along with a knife. "Read your new post this morning. Mel and Sam were mulling over the benefits of having the opposite sex as friends while prepping for meal service; it became fierce. Before I forget, how did your date go last night?"

"My Face-Time date was a no-show... Be honest, how atrocious is it if they refuse to pick up when you call? In some ways, it's worse than ghosting." I plonked myself down and mimicked Jane, slicing lemon and limes into wedges.

"At least, you'll have an answer for the dating feature you wanted."

I hummed an agreeable response before my mood sank again. "I'm on academic probation, reduced classes and the blog you speak of is a failure. Mom re-mortgaged for this semesters tuition. If I don't find a paid summer internship soon, she'll have to sell the house. End of story."

Jane sighed and her hand came up to rub my back. "I thought the blog was going well—You're smart, Millie, you'll figure this out."

"The other campus blogs' view count skyrockets on pure trash. They've reduced me to fake dates for content research. Then there's 'Man-Hack'... bane of my life."

"Holden Carter? The guy who posts the campus advice blog?"

I nodded. "People tell me it's brutal; students spilling their hearts to gain a shred of his golden wisdom about the male psyche."

"Ah, yeah, seen it," she confessed. "I'm a little hooked, utter garbage but a click-bait goldmine. Harsh but he gets the clicks."

Sam appeared at my side with his sleeves rolled up, tattoos on full display. "Hey, sweetheart." His hulking arms scooped me into a bear hug from behind. For a guy as stacked as Sam, his heart was mush and his embrace, security and a warm blanket in one.

The three of us were crammed into a two-story town house, a twenty-minute walk from the bustling sidewalks surrounding the university grounds. Our budget restricted privacy to four pocket-sized walls each, but within them-the best friends/roomies I could wish for. The other upside was stable Wi-Fi affording me constant connection to my student blog now in its third year, which supported my journalism major.

Sam's eyes warmed by his ever-present smile. "Band goes live at 9 PM, oh, and Lover Boys here." He winked, making a clicking sound with his tongue. "Heads up, we've got a newbie on shift tonight." Sam tossed me a spare apron from underneath the bar. "Train Nicole on the ropes for me, Millie. Riley is out of town this weekend."

In the corner hovered a petite pink-haired pixie with striking electric blue eyes. Newbies didn't last; the unsociable hours and our clicky friendship was difficult to penetrate.

"Consider it done, Sam."

Every weekend when Jayson lugged in the band's equipment, there was a collective sigh. Jane and I would pause, attention diverted to his devilish smirk that screamed uncomplicated sex. It always awoke a hunger in me. But today, he breezed right by without a glance, making a beeline for the new waitress.