The Moonlit Cloud Hideout was the one thing keeping me afloat. I've been grateful for my sister taking my kids at night so that I can waitress. It's Friday, so the tips are pretty decent. It's band night too, and that usually brings in more guests, and more tips. There's a new group performing. The swell of the crowd inside the bar tells me that they have a decent following.

The darkness of the bar is lit by white twinkling lights around the perimeter. Lanterns glow on the tables scattered about in front of the stage. The stage is at the far end, on the opposite side of the bar and entrance. The Moonlit Cloud is more of a classy place. We rarely have fights or stumbling drunks. It's a mostly tame environment.

"Hey, Nadine. Table nines drinks are ready."

August Michael's and I have been working at the Moonlit Cloud for the last seven years. His long hair is pulled up into a man bun tonight. He slides over the drinks from behind the bar. I meet his gaze, his deep chocolate eyes sparkle from the lights above.

"Thanks, Aug."

I slide the tray and grasp it in my hand. His narrowed eyes hold me in place.

"I'm fine. I promise."

The corner of his lip turns up into a smile, and he goes back to tending to a man at the other end of the bar. August has always looked out for me since the day I started. He's five years older and like the older brother I never had.

The stage lights dim and the scurrying of feet hurry across the wooden platform. I set some drinks down at nine, then go and check on twelve. They have just finished up their dinner. I gather their plates as the band takes their places.

Table twelve is close to the stage. With the plates in my hand, I start to head back to the bar when the lights flicker, and a spotlight shines on the stage. My attention lands on the man standing dead center. Eyes wide I take in the leather jacket. He's not facing the audience. His back is to us. All his focus is on the drummer clicking his sticks together.

His tall familiar frame has piqued my interest. I can't tell if it's his thick black hair or the leather jacket. When he faces front my feet decide to do a little dance and get caught against someone who has their chair sticking halfway out.

I stare into the same golden eyes I looked into this afternoon. My world shifts. The plates in my hands go flying first, followed by me. The band has already started, and Lawson who I'm assuming is supposed to be singing already has completely frozen up.

The plates crash and scatter along the floor. Somehow I land on my hands and knees. A small shard presses into the skin of my finger. I hiss from the pain. The crowd blurs, but I'm still conscious, which I assume is a good thing. The music comes to a stop and two converse sneakers drop down in front of me. Lawson kneels.

"I guess I'm paying it forward by helping you now, huh?"

My cheeks burn at a million degrees, but the amusement dancing around his eyes, and the wiggle of his thick brow cause a tickle in my throat of laughter. Laughter and– oh shit! I try to warn him, but the bile rises before I can. Sometimes when I'm nervous I can't control it. It's up and all over his converse and some of his jeans before I can get a word out.

"Well, it seems I'm not having any luck in the bodily fluids department today."

When I lift my gaze, I'm expecting to see anger heavily ingrained in his features but instead I find the same lopsided grin that I saw moments ago.

"I am so sorry."

August slides up behind Lawson, his dark eyes darting between the two of us.

"You okay, Nadine?"

I nod. Embarrassed, but okay.

"Shit, man I'm sorry about your clothes. I've got some extra. I keep on me just in case. Working in a bar you never know when someone might projectile all over you. Uh– you could try and see if they fit."

August is a generous man. He's about the same size as Lawson, maybe a tad more muscular with wider hips.

"Thanks man, you're a lifesaver."

The muffled voices of the guests fill the room, along with the guys talking on stage. There's no music, making this situation far too awkward

Lawson turns back to me. "And how are you doing?"

"Maybe I should be asking you that question?" Lawson jokes.

August hands me some napkins off table sixteen. Lawson's laughter calms my raging stomach.

"Guess life was telling me I didn't deal with it enough when I was married, so now it's biting me in the ass for being the slacker in the relationship."

I laugh. "I don't know any parent who can handle vomiting without feeling a tad bit sick themselves. You're doing good."

"You're bleeding," he says, pointing to my finger.

"Nah, it's just a scratch."

It's not too bad, maybe bleeding more than I'd like, but I think it was just pure shock and embarrassment that caused my little incident.

"You didn't hit your head, right?" Lawson asks.

"No. I don't think so. Just need to get something on this cut and cleaned up. I'm okay."

He reaches for the non-bleeding hand and helps me up. When I get to my feet, he helps me wrap a napkin around the cut.

"You got a first aid kit?" he asks August.

"Yes, sir. Right this way. The clothes are back there too."

Lawson hangs back a moment, signaling to his band he'll be right back. One of them, a tall guy with tats covering his face, cues the sound guy to turn the music back on. The room fills again from the sounds of pop music from the speakers above.

Off to the left of the stage is a door to our backroom. The dark paneled hallway is quiet, the only noise is the vibration through the walls of the music. August hands me the first aid kit once we are in the employee room. I thank him and veer off towards the open bathroom door.

First, I unwrap the cut. It's now just a tiny little blob of blood. Nothing major. I find what I need inside the white and red metal case, fix up my minor cut, then put some attention on my appearance.

Thankfully I only have some vomit on my face. I hope no one thinks I'm sick. I can't go home early. I need the money. Vomiting from nerves hasn't occurred in quite some time. Hopefully, this won't be a regular occurrence when it comes to Lawson and me. My stomach churns at the thought.

Holding onto the porcelain sink, I stare at my reflection. Pale cheeks aren't unusual for me, so I'm not overly concerned. I clean up and rinse my mouth out.

"We have got to stop meeting like this." A low growling voice says.

Spinning, I find Lawson leaning against the door frame. His eyes narrow, and there's a playful gleam shining in them.

"I sometimes get sick when I'm nervous. It hasn't happened in a while but – oh-my-God, I'm so embarrassed."

He chuckles and pushes himself off the silver painted frame. His foot hits the door stopper, and the heavy door creaks as it closes.

"That door..."

Before I can finish my sentence, the door clicks shut with an echoing thud.

"It gets stuck." I wince.

He shuffles back towards it and pulls on the handle. Nothing happens. He glances over his shoulder, half of a grin on his regretful face. "Well that sucks."

I wait for my stomach to become unsettled again, but instead I feel a tug at my lips. His shoulders fall. "I'm sorry."

"No, I am. You should be out there performing and here we are stuck in the women's restroom."

"What about calling someone, I'm sure someone in my..." He pats down the rear pocket of his jeans. A soft warm chuckle passes over his lips. "Well would you look at that, my phone is in the puke jeans, which are currently in the employee room drying after I rinsed them in the sink."

I snort. I can't help it. It tumbles out. He's watching me lose my mind, and I almost expect him not to join in, but then he's laughing too, and neither of us can stop. Our voices echo in the bathroom.

"What about your phone?" he asks.

"We aren't allowed phones on the floor. Mine is in my bag in the employee room."

He shakes his dark hair out, messing it up a bit with his hand. Our boisterous laughter dies out, but a soft cackle lingers on his lips.

"Should we scream? Maybe into the vent?" he asks, pointing to a spot in the corner of the peach-colored cement walls.

"You wanna lift me? I could try to scream."

He's still grinning, and I can't help being a little intrigued at this attention he's giving me. First recognizing me from the drop-off line, and now seeing the way he strolled across the bathroom with a lusting glare, has me a little hot and bothered. If only the women at Parkview Elementary could see me now.

"I'm doubting they would hear," he says. "Well, maybe your friend, what's his name? August? He'll notice us missing, right?"

I shrug. "August gets pretty crazy behind the bar, but I think he'd notice if I didn't show back up on the floor."

"Are you two..." he averts his eyes, observing the space around us. "Dating... or is he the father..."

A second snort flies from my nose. I cover my face, cheeks burning so hot it hurts.

"Is that a no?"

"I dunno, that depends. Are you asking me for your benefit? Or because he said something to you?" My silvery voice takes me by surprise.

It's his turn to blush under my scrutinizing stare.

"No. Just curious," he says, walking around inspecting every corner of the room.

"Hmm... okay." I find myself grinning.

After my ex-husband took off, I was convinced that all men were evil. Although I don't know Lawson from a hole in the wall. He could be the very reason he now has an ex-wife. I study him as his back is turned to me. He tries for the door again, tugging it without any hint of release.

"So, you're a single parent too, huh?"

"Getting a little personal there aren't we buddy?"

He spins, and I wiggle my brows.

"Curious?" I ask.

"Maybe a little."

I snicker. "What about you, you said ex-wife, so is there anyone new in your life?"

He stops moving and faces me. "It's only been a few weeks. The divorce papers haven't even been filed. She's the one with someone new, or old maybe."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

I avert my eyes to my feet. Afraid I've hit a nerve. I kick at some dirt caked onto the old, cracked tile. "My ex left us high and dry. I don't even know where he is. Got served divorce papers and he wanted to sign over his rights."

"Ouch. I'm sorry, Nadine. Your kids – you have two, right? Are they okay?"

Something about how he asks about Annabeth and Jackson makes my heart swell. Maybe there are still good guys out there. I like how he didn't ask how I'm doing and that his concern went right to the people who matter most.

"Anna's doing okay. Jackson, he's rebelling, I guess. He never listens, and keeps getting into trouble at school..."

His hand touches my shoulders and I jump at first contact. I was so caught up in my thoughts about Jackson's new behaviors I failed to realize he had crossed the room. I peek up at Lawson through my lashes. His lips pull into a soft understanding smile.

"I've been there. My dad left when I was thirteen. I promised myself I'd never do that to my own kid, yet here I am divorced."

"Yeah, but you're in his life at least. That says something. You might have left the relationship with his mom, but you never exited the one with him. You're already doing better."

He runs a hand through his hair. "It might take him some time to adjust. My only advice is to be there for him. If my mom hadn't, I don't know where I would have been. Even if I told her a million times that I hated her and went off and did things that got me in trouble, she never once abandoned me. That was enough for me."

"In case you're wondering, my ex slept with my best friend," he adds.

Eyes wide I stare at him, and then down at the hand still gently placed on my shoulder. It's the most affection I've gotten in years. And he's only touching my arm.

"Yikes. I'm sorry. That really sucks. Seems we haven't had much luck in the relationship department."

He shakes his head. "Nah, but I'm pretty sure we have some pretty kick ass kids. Well, I don't know about yours, and I might be biased, but mine are pretty awesome."

"Mine too."

He glances back towards the door, crosses the room, and tries the door again.

"How long have you been working here?" he asks, looking up at the ceiling.

"Seven years. And you're a musician?"

"Something like that. It's kind of why my ex cheated, apparently being a musician isn't a real job." he huffs.

"It pays your bills, right?"

"Not a lot, but I get by. I also work in a studio part-time, so it can bring in money."

He slides down the door, sitting on the dirty floor. I follow suit and fall beside him.

"How's the finger?" he asks, nodding towards it.

"Hurts, but I don't need a new one so... I call that a win."

His laughter bounces off the walls. "Same."

We grow quiet. I rest my head against the door, he does the same. Our fingertips are close enough to touch. The heat from his radiates onto mine.

"I..."

A loud bang on the door startles us both to our feet.

"Nadine, you in there?"

"Oh, thank God. Yes, August. Your lead performer is trapped in here with me."

August laughs. "Alright, good. The band got worried. Will have you both out in a jiff."

Lawson and I glance at each other and laugh.

"Well, this was fun. Maybe we'll do it again sometime?" he asks. "Well, not the being locked in a bathroom part."

I chuckle. "Are you asking me out?"

His lip's part. A smile reaches his eyes, and he makes a noise to speak, when the door pops open revealing August and my manager Dan.

"Thank god we found you, the crowd is going nuts," Dan says.

"Well, I'm ready to go!"

Before he retreats from the room, Lawson glances back. He winks, then rounds the corner jogging towards the stage. August's glare should stop me from smiling, but it doesn't. Did that really just happen?

*Prompt #14 A Door Won't Open*