I haven't resigned yet and the more drinks I make into this eight-hour shift, the more I wish I didn't have to at all. I live, sleep and breathe the nightlife of New York; something the small town I grew up in never offered me. I've been working at Saints ever since I turned twenty-one, serving and making drinks for the rich and famous, and whoever may join them.

There had been multiple times where NDAs had to be signed and I never even knew who they were. I work behind the bar, I could never handle waiting at the VIP booths; I've heard the scandals that happen behind the curtains. I however can handle working the bar, I thrive from the rush, the small talk and making drinks.

"One more, gorgeous!" One of my usuals, Ben grabs my attention and I pour him another glass of Whiskey; his last before he goes home to his wife. Every weekday is the same.

As soon as I think it's gone quiet and I have caught five seconds to breathe, a group of twenty or so men - on what I can only assume is a bachelor party - walk through the door. I expected that once asked by a staff member, they would follow through to the VIP section and be waited on, however, they all make their way to the bar for their first drinks of the night instead.

I hold up a hand, "Okay, boys, one at a time, what would you like?!"

Once they are all served and escorted to the VIP section of the club, I check the time and it's already nine o'clock. I only have three hours left for tonight's shift since I finish at midnight on weekdays, which is tame in comparison to the weekend when I finish between two and three am. I'm sure people would call me crazy if they knew I preferred those shifts.

✯✯✯

Exhaustion rules me, my boredom the main cause of it and I keep telling myself that in half an hour I'll be off my feet and heading home to my warm, comfy bed. It isn't a busy night in Saints, which is why I'm bored; I thrive in the rush of things and there is only the bachelor party and a couple of regulars in with their mistresses which was a common sight.

While wiping down the bar, I begin to get lost in my thoughts, something I don't tend to do on the job regularly, and the sound of someone approaching one of the barstools is a reminder of why, forcing myself back into work mode.

"Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?"

My head snaps up at the sound of his voice and I find myself staring at the man who had taken a seat, his elbows leaning on my bar, awaiting an answer to his question. I don't give him one though because I'm lost in my thoughts again as I shamelessly check out the handsome stranger with a tanned complexion in front of me. He has wavey brunette hair and is in his late twenties, wearing black pants and a white dress shirt, with his inked skin disappearing underneath from his ring-clad hands.

"Or could I at least get a name?" his lips turn up in amusement, having noticed I was staring.

"My name's Iris," I grab a glass, ready to take his order, "What would you like?"

"Orange juice please," his nonalcoholic order has me frowning, "Has anyone told you that frowning gives you wrinkles?"

I try not to laugh, but I let a low giggle escape; it was something my nanny used to tell me, "Orange juice coming right up, sir."

"So, a penny for your thoughts?"

"You're not dropping the penny thing, are you?"

He smiles, crossing his arms, waiting, "Nope."

"Do you love your job?" I ask him; I don't even know his job status, but it's a generic question, many people have them.

"I do," he nods, smiling, "Do you?"

"So much," I sigh as I say it, setting his glass of orange juice down in front of him, "What would you do if you had to leave?"

"Um," he stops to think about the question, "I know one day I will have to, but I don't see myself doing anything else, so if I had to, I'd be a bit lost I think."

"Yeah..." I almost drift into my thoughts again.

"Have you been fired or something? Should I be worried you've spiked my drink or you're a murderer?"

Now, I laugh and he joins me, "No, I'm not fired, nor am I a murder by the way, but I do have to quit and this is my entire life," I gesture to the bar, "I live and breathe this place, so it's not an easy decision."

"How old are you, Iris?" he asks me.

"Twenty-four," I admit.

He chuckles, looking me in the eyes, "You are still young, Iris, you have so much of your life left to live and as much as you love this bar, there are a lot of things you can do outside of it, so don't limit yourself on what you're capable of; it's how you miss opportunities."

"Thank you..." I realise I never got his name.

"Nathan," he finishes with a smile, "What time are you off, Iris? Could I buy you a drink?"

I should say no, but after today, I need one and it's been a while since I last let myself enjoy some male company, "I finish in twenty-five minutes."

"I'll see you then," he picks up his drink.

He sends me another smile before he walks off, orange juice in hand, and I resume wiping down the bar, the mystery of him on my mind as I do.

The remaining twenty-five minutes of my shift drag like hell, with the promised drink constantly on my mind, and definitely not the tall hunk of a man waiting on me in the next room for said drink.

Once I'm able to clock out, I head into the back to change into my normal clothes and once I've buttoned my jeans, I let my blonde hair down from its ponytail. I check myself over in the mirror and sigh; I'm now in blue jeans and a casual but cute red tank top, which is way better than the black leggings and work shirt I was wearing five minutes ago.

When I walk out, I find him waiting for me at the bar and I don't miss the double take he does when he sees me walking over.

"What would you like to drink?" he asks me as he takes out his wallet.

"A glass of white wine would be lovely, thank you," I tell him.

Carlotta takes our order, eyeing me like I've done something insane, but I ignore her and settle next to Nathan's side as he orders himself a beer. Once we have our drinks, instead of leading me to the VIP section, he pulls out a chair for me at a table, just for the two of us.

"Are they not waiting on you?" I ask, referring to the bachelor party he's part of.

"No, they know I'll be leaving early," he doesn't extend his answer, nor do I question it. "So, now you're off shift, tell me, why do you need to quit?"

I take a sip of wine before answering, "I need to move back home to Montana, I'll be leaving in about four weeks, which is how much notice the bar needs."

"Damn, I'm sorry about that," he seems sincere.

"It's okay, just not something I want, but life isn't like that, you have to do things you don't want to do."

"True right," he nods.

"So, who's getting married?"

"It's my friend Charlie; September second, he's marrying his high school sweetheart, Elle," he tells me.

"God, really? Highschool?" I ask, and he nods.

"We all went to school together, it's neat seeing them finally tie the knot, you know?"

"Yeah, I bet it is," I murmur, "Stories like that make me believe that true love might exist."

"Why wouldn't it be?" he frowns at my words.

"That's a topic for another day," I laugh it off, not wanting to get into that, "But what I would like to know now is, why did you order the orange juice?"

He laughs at the question, "To be honest I don't really drink alcohol, I'm not a fan, this is my first alcoholic drink besides the shot when we got here."

"I'm not a massive drinker either," I relate; having alcohol issues run through my family like an heirloom had put me off since I was a young teen, "Orange juice wouldn't have been my first pick though."

"Let me guess, Sprite?" he muses, and I blush, because yes, my drink of choice usually is Sprite.

"So, why did you ask me for a drink; are you into sad, boring people, Nathan?"

"No, but I'm into stunning people that intrigue me, Iris."

~~~~~

A/N

heheheh, I love them already.

I hope you stick around to read their story because I can't wait to share it <3