Ella Sullivan is an 18-year-old high school senior with a sharp wit and a penchant for sarcasm. Her life revolves around her close-knit group of friends and the love for her dog. But her world is thrown into disarray when she encounters Ms. Catherin...
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———༺✵༻——— POV Ella ———༺✵༻———
Saturday nights at the bar are always the busiest, and tonight is no exception. The place is packed, a cacophony of chatter and laughter filling the air as I weave through the crowd with practiced ease. The neon lights cast a colorful glow over everything, giving the space a lively, almost surreal atmosphere. I glance over at the bar where Joe, one of our regulars, is perched on his usual stool. He catches my eye and raises his glass in a toast.
"Ella!" Joe calls out with a wide grin, his words slightly slurred but full of warmth. "You're the only reason I keep coming back to this place."
"Sure, Joe. It's definitely not the cheap whiskey," I tease, making my way over to him. He laughs, a hearty sound that cuts through the noise of the bar.
"Cheap whiskey and good company," he corrects, winking. "How've you been, kid?"
"Busy," I reply, grabbing a rag to wipe down the bar in front of him. "But you know how it is. What about you? Any wisdom to share tonight?"
Joe takes a long sip from his glass, pondering my question. "Life's too short to waste time on things that don't make you happy. Find your joy, Ella, and hold onto it."
His words hit home more than he knows, and I nod, letting the thought settle in. "I'll keep that in mind, Joe. Thanks."
As I leave Joe to his drink, I focus on my tasks, moving from table to table, writing up orders, and balancing trays laden with drinks. It's during one of these runs, as I'm picking up a plate with a round of beers, that I feel a hand slip around my waist.
My first instinct is to elbow whoever it is right in the gut. This happens more than I'd like, and I'm ready to teach some drunk fool a lesson. But when I turn around, I'm met with the familiar sight of Catherine's mischievous smile.
"Easy there," Catherine laughs, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "I come in peace."
Relief floods through me, though I narrow my eyes at her playfully. "I was ready to punch you," I admit, setting the tray down and planting my hands on my hips.
"Well, lucky for me, you didn't," she says, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"We're in public, you need to be more careful." I try to reason, but I can't help the grin tugging at my lips. "What are you doing here?"
"Came to see you, obviously," Catherine replies, her tone light but her gaze intense. "Do you have a minute to talk?"
I glance at the clock above the bar. "I have a ten-minute break coming up. Can you wait until then?"
She nods, stepping aside to let me continue my rounds. I finish delivering drinks to a table of rowdy patrons, then signal to my manager that I'm stepping out for my break.
