JUNO (sabrina carpenter x you)

chapter 1

Y/N's POV:

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"Oh Y/N your service is just impeccable!" The older woman, a regular I'd come to know well, raised her martini in a silent toast. Her eyes crinkled with warmth as she smiled in my direction.

I tossed my white hand towel over my shoulder and returned her smile, absently smoothing my black button-up shirt. The gesture was genuine, a moment of connection in the bustling bar.

"It's always a pleasure serving you, Joan. How is the business going?" I nodded in her direction, silently signifying I was paying attention whilst cleaning up a few straw glasses.

"Oh you know, same old clients. But let me tell you, dear, I sunk 2 billion into three restaurant establishments in Chelsea and the buyers weren't the least grateful! It gets rough out here, people weren't like this back when I was your age."

I chuckled softly at her theatrical retelling of her work life. As I listened, a poured a measure of Jack Daniel's over ice, sliding the glass to the gentleman on my right. Then I turned back to her, my attention refocused.

"Clients need to be more polite to you," I commented, momentarily biting the side of my cheek. "I'll go beat 'em' up for you."

Joan chuckled warmly, her rich laughter coursing through my ears. "You're a funny girl, Y/N, I'm surprised some lucky lady hasn't locked you down yet."

Joan and I shared a close bond, and she was well-aware of my sexuality. I confided in her frequently, treating her with the same trust I'd extend to a family member.

"Come on, Joan, I'm only 25," I said with a light laugh, polishing a glass. "Still plenty of time to find someone." Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Dalton, my coworker, leaned in close. His thick Jersey accent cut through the bar's ambient noise. "Hey, Y/N, got a sec? Need to chat with you out back."

I gave a slight nod, then turned to Joan with an apologetic look. "Sorry, I'll be right back."

"Take your time, dear," she replied, her eyes crinkling with a warm smile. I excused myself and followed Dalton to the liquor storage area. He pushed open the back door, leading us into the alley. He leaned against the brick wall and fished out a pack of Marlboros.

"Want one?" he asked, extending the pack towards me. I nodded, accepting his offer with appreciation. As he lit my cigarette, I drew my lips together. Then, leaning back, I took a deep drag, watching with fascination as smoke curled from my mouth.

The slightly crisp New York City air nipped at our skin, while the distant hum of traffic provided a constant backdrop. To me, this urban chaos was oddly soothing. I genuinely loved my job as a bartender here, finding real satisfaction in the work.

At 25, my career choice as a bartender wasn't exactly what my parents had envisioned for me. But I'd found my calling and had managed to make quite a reputation for myself in the industry.

It's funny how life works out. When you're passionate about what you do, it hardly feels like work at all. Plus, I was carrying on a family tradition of sorts. My grandfather had been a renowned bartender in his day, and that legacy gave me a leg up in establishing my own name here.

Dalton exhaled a plume of smoke before turning to me. "So, you set for tonight?"

I raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Tonight? What's happening?"