AN: This is just a draft I wrote, it may or may not happen in the book, which is now published.

Meghan's POV:

We had a fight.

Again.

It's like the third time this month, but this time we're over. I'm sure of it.

He says that I'm crazy, so I respond that he's just clingy.

Then he snapped, "Maybe you just don't know how a real relationship works!" 

I left in silence.

~

"Yo, bay-bay! I need another drink over here!" Says a douche with his friends. To add insult to injury- the one I really want to give him, he slaps his hand on the counter and makes kissy faces at me.

I hate my job. No. I hate the people at my job.

Instead of throwing a bottle at his head, I smile and sashay my way down the bar. My hair swings perfectly and the leather I'm rocking gives every man here ideas. By the time I make it over to the douche, he's the attention of envy.

You see, I haven't smiled all night, so now everyone wants to know what makes him so special. Quickly and with lots of flare, I make his overly simplistic beverage.

But instead of regular vodka, I add in some Everclear.

Or as real drinkers know it, the shit that the even the Devil is wary of.

You don't fuck around with it. Either you drink it to forget or someone gives it to you without explaining. FYI that person hates your guts.

My reasons are self explanatory.

Half of me even doubts the man can get it down while the other half doesn't really care.

I give the douche his drink with a smile still on my face. Of course now his ego's all over inflated. His friends give him pats on the back like I'm not supposed to know what they mean. Of course now he's going to try the ancient game of flirting, but not for a relationship.

He wants me to lay with him tonight and then leave once he's satisfied.

"I heard that blondes always have more fun. That true?" He slurs in my direction.

I tilt my hair over my shoulder and dim my smile down to sinister.

"Maybe. But take another look at my hair baby." I purr and give them a second to look at it. "I'm not just any regular blonde, so my fun tends to get dirty."

The greatness of my line is wasted on these drunks but it leads events the way I want them to go anyway.

Which is the douche chugging his drink, because he thinks that it'll make him look manlier in my eyes.

Now, with a regular drink, he'd maybe gag a bit.

But I don't give a fuck what you mix Everclear with, that shit burns when swallowed to a level in which the douche wasn't prepared for.

Immediately his already inebriated body rejects the grain alcohol entrance, and it comes back out of his mouth with force.  And since that venom was gone, his body decides the throw up the rest of the shit he's consumed in the last day or so.

Now, I had already expected this to happen so I'm safe from the spew zone-

the guys next to him are not.

Needless to say, the tatted biker looking guy wasn't pleased. His fist swung out and stuck the landing on the douche's jaw.

And then a bar fight began with me standing behind the counter still smiling.

Now truth be told, douche didn't really deserve such a severe punishment. But, I had reached my limit with his entire posse in general who were now getting their asses dragged.

My other bar tending job, at a club named 'The Vortex', the fight would've stopped immediately and the cops would've been called. But Sam, the owner of Spades, lets shit happen and will only call the cops if unnecessary patrons become injured.

"Every time." Said owner growls coming up to me. He leans back on the counter and crosses his arms.

"Huh? Every time, what?" I ask innocently. I make sure that my hazel eyes get right into his chocolate brown ones.

Normally this is my trump card outta shit but Sam never takes it. Asshole.

"It seems that every time a fight happens, I can always find your ass somewhere near it with a goddam smile on yer face!" If anything, my act makes him madder and I know this because his one eighth Irish accents comes out.

I deflate the act to calm his growing tension. "I'm having a bad day and they had it coming."

"You're always having a bad day!" Sam bellows throwing up his hands.

No one's really paying attention to us thankfully, the fight is settling down but there's still a lot of yelling. Regardless of what the movies portray, fights normally last around maybe 10 minutes max. No one has the energy to keep swinging and taking hits for more than that.

At least, not regular people.

"I know and I'm so-" I start to apologize.

"Bull. I'm done with this! I've been telling you to leave that no good, shifty eyed, boyfriend-"

"I left him." I cut in angrily. The topic has been hashed over so many times that I'm genuinely tired of it.

Sam pauses a second in shock. But then the sound of glass breaking brings back on his wrath.

"And yet, you're still having bad days! I pay you to serve drinks, not to poison customers who challenge your monk like patience." He ends sarcastically.

"You're right Sam. I'll clean up the mess." I mutter. "And pay for the broken glass." I add as an after thought.

"No." He snaps.

"No?" I ask looking up at his hulking form confused.

"No. I'll have someone else clean this shit up. Pack up your stuff." Sam commands.

"You're firing me?" I yell. Disbelief clear in my face. Sam has been damn near murderously mad with me before, but he's never come close to firing me. 'What the hell have I done?'

"You need to figure some shit out and tis not the place for it." He says.

"Sam!" I gasp. This can't be happening.

His body stays firm and I'm sort of glad that his eyes are shaded from me so that I can't see the rejection they hold. I step up to plead my case but then he moves past me to his office. I follow him but Sam just pushes me back slightly, and slams the door in my face. I know that the door is locked, but that doesn't hinder me from trying the knob anyway.

Locked.

I bang on the door for a second hoping that he'll come out to talk to me.

He doesn't.

"Fine!" I yell at his door. I even kick it for good measure, now my toe hurts. 

The crowd is calm now but it's still buzzing loud from the fight. The douche's posse is no where to be found, I guess they crawled away as fast as they could.

I get my stuff from underneath the bar angrily.

"Hey, can I get another beer?" Some random guy asks.

I keep my head down slightly so that no one will see the tears starting to pool in my eyes. My toe really hurts, that's all.

"No, asshole." I snap in the guys general direction.

There are a couple of Whoa's at my sudden venom but I don't care.

"I quit!" I scream at Sam's door, just to save face as I storm out.

'How?' I think to myself while walking towards my Jeep. 'How can I screw up so bad?'

That one eighth Irishman was the only person who talked to me when I first got here. I actually met the lug at my other job, well now it's my only job. He was the only guy who didn't flirt with the 'hot blonde' at the bar serving drinks. Sam actually made me laugh and he's been making me laugh all these years like a true friend.

"Damn you Sam." I grumble to myself. My tears are now free flowing and the pain isn't just in my toe anymore.

I feel so lost now, and not just because I'm out of some extra money.

And that's when my phone pings.

"What?" I answer rudely after looking at the caller ID. He doesn't need to know that I'm crying in my car. 

"I honestly didn't think you'd answer. Look, can we just talk? Things were said and fuses were blown. Are you working right now?" Ross asks.

This guy has great timing. I can kill two birds with one stone, clear the air with Ross and forget about what just happened.

"We can meet up. Where are you?" I ask, not really answering his question.

"Phoebe's place. She just left with that Mr. M guy but I can't just leave her apartment door unlocked. Do you know where it is?"

My mood instantly rises as a bark of laughter escapes my throat. I think I'll remember her address till the day I die, it took me forever to get there when both she and Ross were drunk a while back.

"Yeah, I think I remember." I tell him before I hang up.

(Play song now, if you want.)

His weight feels good on my body. It's almost like he's my anchor, making sure that I don't fly away. He may be on top, but I own this kiss. We must look like horny teenagers as we make out on his friends couch.

My hands trace up his shirt to feel the hot skin underneath. He shivers as my nails trail down his back teasingly because we know how much he likes it when they leave marks.

Ross won't open his mouth because he still thinks that there's hope for us to actually talk. I'm not in the mood for words so I keep kissing him.

I hitch my leg around Ross and he automatically grabs my other one and wraps it around his waist. Now I'm completely open to him. I groan when I feel his erection pressed against me. We would be fucking right now if our clothes were off.

Ross grumbles then moves away from my lips. He knows where this is heading.

"Megh-" He starts.

It was the opening I needed. I quickly capture his mouth and my tongue wraps around his. Now he's mine. No man can seem to resist once they're open to me.

I wiggle my pelvis against his erection and I can feel myself becoming slick. We moan at nearly the same time. Ross tries to back away again so i bury one hand in his hair as the other trails back up his shirt to make indents into his flesh. Nothing serious, I don't break skin unless we're hardcore fucking.

He escapes my mouth only to start kissing my neck. One thing I do hate is that Ross doesn't bite, he loves the marks I leave on him but he never reciprocates. Maybe that's a good thing.

I roll my eyes as he kisses my neck and turn my head so that he catches my lips instead. His hand trails down into my pants and I purr in satisfaction at his surprise, I'm not wearing underwear.

Ross may not be a biter but his fingers sure do like to pinch. By the time Ross is done with his inspection, I'm so damn close to climaxing that I'm non-verbally begging for a release. The two fingers currently easing in and out of my body are controlling my entire being.

"Roosssss....." I plead with him. I gyrate on his fingers to help the pressure but it's not enough.

I'm so focused on coming that I've forgotten that my kisses have him as malleable as I am right in this moment.

I grab Ross again but this time I flip us. I'm not sure how we haven't fallen off this couch yet but I'm grateful. His hand has slipped out of my pants but I'm angling for something better anyway. I break our kiss and roll my pelvis against his. Now Ross is rock hard. There's no way his mind is on talking.

Sitting up I throw my hair over my shoulder and give Ross a smile. A smile that lets him know that games will no longer be tolerated. I grab his mischievous hand and lick his fingers clean. Ross watches me as I taste my excitement and he moans at the sight.

I lean down and kiss him again while slowly unclasping his belt. I then trail kisses along his throat and nip at his collarbone.

He tries to shake himself into awareness when he hears his zipper going down.

"We need to talk...." He whispers out. Not really wanting me to stop but saying it just so that he can say that he did later.

"MMmhmmm" I mummer as I drag his jeans and underwear down. He lifts his hips up to help me and then moves to sitting position as I take off my own pants.

His eyes are glazed over with lust and I'm sure that mine are too. He slowly strokes his dick as I rub my clit, we both watch each other in a stalemate. Who moves first?

"Take off your shirt." He says, probably tired of his hand.

I slowly shake my head back and forth.

"It's too cold in here." I respond making my way towards him. I bend over, run my hand across my vagina, and stroke his dick. The natural lubrication I'm leaking helps me as I give him a handy.

I lick his bottom lip but move away. I want more than kisses.

Getting on my knees, I trail my tongue from his balls to his tip and down again. Most men love ball play so I make sure to pay his sack extra attention. I steadily stroke him while sucking softly.

"Get up here." Ross growls. His chest is heaving up and down, there's perspiration from him fighting his early ejaculation.

I quickly straddle him and make sure that his penis is exactly where I want it. We have this unspoken agreement that I control when he enters my body.

His tip firmly pushes in and I sink down lower.

Inch by inch, I lose myself until I have to come back up to feel him breaching my entrance again. I'm so lost that I only faintly feel my chest getting cold before there's warmth covering my breasts. I feel something against my lower half but I can't decipher anything.

I push myself up only for gravity to pull me back down and it's sweet ecstasy. I feel him hitting my G-spot and I'm nearly there. We're both huffing and I gasp as his fingers pinch my clitoris.

I push harder and the pressure is becoming unbearable.

ROSS!!!

I hear his name being screamed and I think it came from me.

I grip the back of his head to keep him still because I'm about to-

The front door opens and slams against the wall, the noise it makes is almost like a gunshot.

'Oh shit.'

AN: Did ya like it? Let me know. Plus this is some extra heat since SDC's ending didn't have any.