THE MONDAY LUNCH SHIFT DRAGGED; the stench of buffalo wings, baskets of skin-on-fries and sloppy sliders twisted a knot in my stomach.

After gathering stray glasses, I took a break and read the local newspaper until an attractive red-haired girl barged through the door with her boyfriend a pace behind. She chose a booth big enough for six but sat as strangers.

I passed them a menu to share.

"Cheeseburger and Coke." The girl shoved the menu across the table.

"Same," he grunted back, then reverted to silence and mutual eye-daggers, their words banked until my departure.

"Sure thing," I said with a smile.

As I turned to leave, I tuned into their conversation. "You told me I was your best friend, then you sleep with me. I thought our relationship was first stemmed from friendship."

The man grunted again. "I told you already, we were friends until we became something... more."

"Was it always about sex? Were we ever platonic? Do you know how betrayed I feel? I thought we were organic, but you would have slept with me from the offset. Admit it."

"You'll believe a blog over me? I wish you never laid eyes on it."

My legs grounded to a halt, and my heart stopped beating. More and more I regretted writing that blog...

"It was errant musings of a little girl that can't get a date, baby. It's not about us." His hand reached over the table, but she retracted.

The words stung like a bee in summer. My blog was more than that, I was more than that, and Man Hack was becoming a problem. Back at the bar, I selected glasses and pulverized ice into jagged shards.

As I headed to the food-hatch, I stepped around the open dishwasher door and fixed my order sheet to a row of suspended clips. I smacked the bell and gave Mel a wobbly smile.

As a gentleman passed retirement, he was here for the company I suspected, like the archaic jukebox that only played the first sixty-seconds of a track then skipped—Mel was occasionally as repetitive and would be here long after we had graduated.

But his stories were way more interesting than any fiction. He enjoyed telling tales, the earning of each scar on his arms, what girls broke his heart in youth and the one woman he'd committed to marrying, who had sadly left his world for a life above it.

He wrung his hands on a dishtowel and frowned. "You okay, Millie, honey?" Mel reminded me of my Grandpa; wise and never obtuse, he understood the emotional complexities of others as if it were second nature.

I nodded through blurring eyes. "Yeah, Mel. I'm good." Then I toe-punted the dishwasher door and my eyes pricked with new tears of frustration. Not wanting to see Mel's comforting smile, my hand found a rag, and I wiped the side down.

With less than an hour of my shift left, my bath and my bed called. That's where I would focus. Riley's was a great distraction, and until now, I'd forgotten about my assignment and Holden Carter.

To my left, behind the bar, Riley was on all fours as a keg hissed air at him. He swore under his breath. "Monitor the bar, Millie. I need to change the keg and Sam's not due in for half an hour."

My eyes roamed the empty bar. "And Nicole is where?"

Riley shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I sent her out on an errand, and I haven't seen her since." Riley brought home strays without a clue what to do with them after. Nicole was the dog that we needed to remember to feed but never to pet to avoid attachment issues.

Riley pointed to a customer perched on a bar stool before log-rolling the keg away. The bar snack menu dipped below a pair of dark framed eyes—Holden's.

"Fancy seeing you here, Millie. How's my favorite bartender doing?" His gaze swept over me, taking in my messy ponytail and stained apron. "Rough day?"

"You could say that." I tossed my rag under the bar with more force than necessary.

Holden laughed, a rich warm sound I hated to admit didn't sound half bad.

"Will you spit in my food if I order a burger?"

I grinned but said nothing.

Holden chewed on his bottom lip to stifle a smile. "Guess I'll take a beer then."

As I popped the cap off a bottle for him, his eyes tracked my every movement. I could feel them tracing the curves hidden beneath my uniform. A tingle crept up my neck that I quickly tamped down. Focus, Millie. This arrogant pretty boy isn't worth your time.

I slid the beer in front of him. "Here. That's five bucks."

He forked over the cash as I rang him up on the ancient register.

"We have an assignment due. Are you free soon?" Despite his dazzling smile it competed against deep eye-bags that were now a shade darker than a shadow. I recalled his dedication the night before and could now see its toll on his face.

My eyes bounced to the clock on the wall. "I'm working for another half an hour, but it looks like you could do with a nap."

"What are you suggesting?" he asked with a slow smile.

"Absolutely nothing, friend." I smiled back. "You look like shit. Does your fan base know they are killing you?"

With a resigned sigh, I leaned against the back counter and watched Holden sip his drink. Maybe he wasn't so bad. At least he brought some life to this dive bar. And despite our bickering, a small part of me enjoyed sparring wits with him.

"My exhaustion is not down to my blog," he answered. "But, thanks for caring enough to ask."

Sam breezed through the door with a gym bag over his shoulder. He enveloped me in a hug and kissed my temple. "Consider yourself relieved early, Sweetheart."

Holden rose and extended a hand. "You must be Millie's..."

"Roommate and friend," Sam replied.

Holden's smile became a grin at the word friend and I knew exactly why. I exited around the bar just to elbow Holden hard. Through gritted teeth, I whispered, "I know my friends far better than you ever could. This guy isn't up for debate."

Holden held up his hands in mock surrender, still irritatingly smug, and leaned into me, whispering back, "Hey, don't say I didn't warn you. When your buddy Sam makes his move, remember this conversation."

Arrogant jerk! I'll never understand why Holden gets under my skin so easily. But I refused to let him rattle my faith in my friendships. Sam wasn't like that...was he? I huffed angrily and stomped to the other end of the bar. "I need to freshen up."

A blast of conditioned air chilled my skin as I entered the bathroom. As nightfall threatened to steer even more students inside, my mind sought peace, not study in a crowded bar. My fingers tangled in my dark tresses and re-fixed escaped strands behind my ears.

My earliest memory was reading print that blackened my small fingers. Minutes would blur into hours on a Sunday when the weekend edition hit. Reality was more interesting than fiction, a different writing ignited a passion— journalism.

The last three years were a meandering journey towards that goal. Holden held the potential to butcher my assignment and chances of a glowing reference. But, above all else though, I wanted to be considered a professional.

Exiting the bathroom, I navigated back to the booth where Holden now sat, slung my bag on the floor and dropped next to him. "Where do we even start with this paper?"

Holden watched as I tracked Nicole as she reappeared from the side door. She hung up her apron and quickly scanned the room before bee-lining for the table closest to the stage. Good luck to her; the band didn't play during the week.

"We should start by getting to know each other and then maybe we can discuss assignment theories without you taking offense. You'll know by then that's not my motive. So, tell me something." Holden pointed at Nicole. "You don't like that girl, why?"

I bristled, gripping the counter edge. Holden was disarmingly perceptive and correct in saying we had no trust between us yet as strangers. I shrugged. "I barely know her well enough to say."

Holden waved to Sam and made a gesture. Minutes later, Sam set down a pitcher of beer and two glasses. The condensation ran top to bottom before pooling around the base in a halo.

On auto pilot I poured two glasses and took a refreshing gulp from one.

"If it's valid for either argument, we should talk about it?" Holden challenged.

"It's not relevant." I raised the glass to my lips and sipped.

"You want my advice?"

"Will you be dispensing it, anyway?" My eyes found Nicole. Maybe I needed his advice? Nothing I had attempted until this point had come to fruition.

"Consider it a platonic friend helping a platonic friend get laid. Remember that two percent I spoke of?"

How could I forget his bar analogies from the previous day? Holden took my silence as confirmation.

"You don't believe in platonic friends..."

"Excellent point." He grinned. "But what I was about to say is, don't dislike a girl because of a guy. Anyone who pits one woman against another is a waste of space. With this guy, roles are reversed. Without having to earn that elusive lotto ticket, players do the picking, but the concept of sex and need are the same."

I didn't understand.

Leaning back in the booth with an infuriating grin, he said, "I could help you out with him."

I narrowed my eyes. "Help how? How do I get him to see me?" Holden didn't strike me as a liar or someone who'd tell a half-truth to appease. A friendship with him could be interesting, but entirely plausible.

"He already sees you, Millie..." Holden's eyes softened. "There's not a guy in here who doesn't."

"That's not what I meant. No points for stating the obvious. Why doesn't he want me?"

"I know what you meant. He knows you're waiting for him to make a move. I'm gonna tell you why the rules are different for him.""

"We're not on a date, Holden."

"If you say so. And It's not her fault. Everyone is just getting by, like you or me. You shouldn't be a judge and jury."

"Do you think she's pretty?"

Holden glanced over to her and back to me.

"Yes, she is. You both are," he said matter-of-factly.

"Then why hasn't he asked me out? I've dropped the hints, and now I need the truth." I inched the pitcher closer to Holden.

Holden bit his lip and stifled a smile. Just as I was about dig further into Holden's psyche, Nicole stood to attention as Jayson sauntered in. With the band not booked, my heart surged in hope he had come to see someone. God forbid it was Nicole. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Holden watching me closely, most likely catching the wistful gaze in my eyes.

He clasped my shoulders. "If that's who you want, repeat after me, you are the sexiest woman in the entire room. Don't wait for him, make the move or someone else will."

With a chuckle he released me with a nudge forward. I nodded, having no intention of repeating what he'd just said.

"You want him to notice you? You need to become unavailable. That's where I come in." Holden draped an arm over my shoulder with a smug grin. "Tonight, Mills, we only have eyes for each other."

Jayson clocked me and his fuck-me-now-or-later grin made an appearance. In that first glance, Holden's words made complete sense. For the first time, with Holden's arm snugly around my shoulder, Jayson saw me.

"And he's watching you right now."

I loosened the band in my hair and let it drop past my shoulders. Not wanting to let an opportunity pass, I signaled to Sam that we'd need more pitchers. Tonight, that boy was mine, and that grin optioned for now, not later. I couldn't believe I was actually going through with this ridiculous plan, but the drinks kept flowing and my inhibitions lowered. Before I knew it, Holden and I were deep into our fake couple act.