JUNO (sabrina carpenter x you)

chapter 9

Y/N's POV

**mature content**

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music for this chapter (play when mentioned if you wish)

*My Luv- RINI*

*The Beach- The Neighborhood*

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*•☕️*•☕️*•☕️*•☕️*•☕️*•☕️•*

"This is shit," I muttered under my breath, scrunching my face in distaste as the sharp, bitter tang of the martini hit my lips. The reaction was instantaneous and less than flattering, but it didn't go unnoticed. Sabrina, Laurie, Sarah, and Paloma burst into laughter from the circular booth where we were all sitting.

Just an hour ago, the girls had all been insistently lobbying for Sabrina and I to join them for drinks after the show, despite the fact that Sabrina had been adamant about keeping me to herself this evening.

Her exact words? "You're mine tonight." No room for negotiation there.

But here we were, in the heart of Hartford, Connecticut, sitting in the back of a sleek, upscale bar. The booth we occupied felt like something out of a magazine – luxurious, plush, and bathed in the soft glow of dim lighting. Despite the late hour, the bar buzzed with energy. It was a little past midnight, but the place still pulsed with life, the hum of conversation mixing with clinking glasses and the low beat of background music. The air was thick with that rich, almost intoxicating sense of exclusivity. The kind of place where it was clear only those with money—or the appearance of it—were welcome.

But honestly? It was nice. Sitting there, I couldn't help but be transported back to my grandfather's bar, watching him expertly craft his signature drinks for our family and friends. Even when I was just a kid, I'd sit on the worn barstool beside him, fascinated by his steady hands as he mixed ginger ale and cranberry juice together, calling it the "Special for his Sweat Pea." At the time, I thought it was the most magical thing in the world, and every now and then, I still make it—just for the nostalgia, just for him.

I miss him more than I can say. He would have been so proud of how far I've come, of where I am today. I like to think he's watching, smiling down on me as I carry on his legacy behind the bar. Every drink I mix, every new cocktail I perfect, I do it in his honor—keeping his tradition alive, one pour at a time.

Anyways, Sabrina had been more than a little insistent that I try a drink and offer my opinion—"for the review," she'd said, almost like a challenge, as if she were proud of the fact that I knew my way around cocktails. "Impress them with your bartending knowledge," she'd joked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Of course, I didn't really want to get drunk tonight, but Sabrina was determined. She clearly enjoyed the idea of showing off the fact that I—her love interest—was, apparently, the "most esteemed bartender in upper Manhattan".

I couldn't help but smile at the thought, even as I took another reluctant sip of the martini, already deciding I wasn't going to take another sip of it.

"What's the flavor profile, bartender?" Sabrina teased, her smirk widening as she leaned in, clearly enjoying every moment of this. She had her chin resting in her hands beside me in the circular booth, her eyes locked on me with an almost unsettling fascination as she watched me intently. I pursed my lips, trying to shake off the bitter taste lingering in my mouth, before swallowing the last of the martini with a slight furrow in my brow.