Things were going well for a change. I had almost mastered all the basic drinks under Jimmy's sharp yet entertaining tutelage. He had me practicing alongside him four nights a week, and despite my initial hesitation, I was actually having fun. His exaggerated facial expressions, the ridiculous dance routines he would drag me into, and his over-the-top flirting with customers had me laughing so hard at times I thought I'd actually pee my pants.

It was easy, comfortable. Safe.

Anne and Jimmy were slowly rebuilding whatever it was they had before. It wasn't quite romance, but the way he teased her and how she played it cool—it was something. And it was obvious that Jimmy found that intriguing. Chrys, on the other hand, had started working at the club, which meant Ed was living his best life playing the role of protective knight in shining armor, standing between her and any guy that dared hit on her. The four of us made a solid team, and our tips were better than ever.

Most of those tips went straight into a savings jar for Natalie's medical expenses.

She had already undergone her surgery and was in recovery. Chrys and I had managed to secure more donations from her father's business partners—an additional twenty-five thousand, enough to cover the hospital costs but not all of the post-operative medication she'd need. So we all chipped in, quietly, making sure Harry never found out where the extra money was coming from.

Jimmy was the only one who knew the full extent of it, and it was through him that we got updates. He had mentioned, almost in passing, that when Harry found out about the first donation, he had cried.

I hadn't seen him since the ski trip.

He had texted me a couple of times, but I kept my replies short, making up excuses about studying or bartending lessons with Jimmy. He had even suggested private lessons—with added winking emojis and kisses—but I never followed through.

I didn't ask about Charlie. I didn't ask about the Manhunt. I didn't ask about anything, really.

I focused on my studies. I focused on work. I focused on being young and free and happy, because for the first time in a while, I actually felt like I was.

The club was throwing a huge costume party. We all went all in.

Jimmy, ever predictable, dressed as Christian Grey.

Chrys pulled off a perfect Lara Croft with her high ponytail, hot shorts, crop top, and fake ammo belts.

Ed dressed as a Musketeer.

And me?

I chose something different, something I normally wouldn't. A lace black dress with thigh-high boots, channelling a character from Beautiful Creatures.

The moment I walked into the club, I felt the shift.

Eyes followed me. Some hungry, some envious, and some surprised.

It was rare for me to feel desired. I knew I was attractive, but I never played into it. That night, though? I let myself. Just for one night, I let myself own it.

Jimmy whistled when he saw me.

"Wow, Cameron. You look hot."

I smirked, playing along. "Trying to impress someone?"

"Yes."

"And who might that be?" He leaned against the bar, watching me with an amused glint in his eye.

"Me."

He let out a low chuckle. "And? What's the verdict?"

"I'm impressed," I admitted. "And I like the way it feels."

"Stay close tonight, Missy, because with that cleavage, we're gonna have a problem with the male customers."

"And the female," he added, shaking his head.

I laughed, but part of me knew he wasn't wrong.

The club was packed, the music was loud, and we were drowning in drink orders. I handled myself well, keeping up with the rush while deflecting the ridiculous pick-up lines being thrown my way.

Then I heard a familiar voice.

"God, you look sexy as fuck."

I turned around and saw Sylvia standing there, dressed as a fallen angel, her long legs framed by sheer black fabric.

"Sylvia!" I grinned, genuinely happy to see her.

We exchanged a quick hug over the bar.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were working."

"We heard we had some competition and had to come check it out," she teased.

"We?"

"Yeah," she said, tilting her head toward the other side of the bar. "I'm here with Harry."

My stomach clenched.

I hadn't seen him in over a month.

I hadn't let myself think about him in over a month.

I turned my head slowly, preparing myself.

And there he was.

Dressed in a blue Hawaiian button-up with palm trees, most of the buttons undone, Ray-Bans sitting on his nose even though it was past midnight. He looked obnoxiously good.

Sylvia must've caught the look on my face because she smirked.

"He wanted to come see you."

I forced a casual shrug. "Jimmy hasn't seen him much."

She rolled her eyes. "No, Ella. He wanted to see you."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. "Oh."

Sylvia took the hint, asked for a Sol, and disappeared into the crowd.

Before I had the chance to process anything, another familiar face appeared at my side.

"I can't believe how beautiful you look," Harry murmured.

I swallowed, gripping the edge of the bar. "Thanks."

"Vodka, straight," he said, sliding his glasses on top of his head.

I poured him a shot, my hands steady even though I felt anything but.

"Make it two," he added. "One for you, too."

I hesitated, then relented.

"Bottoms up?" he smirked.

"Bottoms up."

We downed them together. Then, without warning, he turned toward Jimmy.

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah, man?"

"She's taking her ten-minute break."

And just like that, my heart stopped.

Before I could react, before I could say anything, he reached for my hand and led me out of the bar. His grip was light but firm, his fingers skimming mine with an electricity that was impossible to ignore.

He led me through the back door, past the stares and whispers, until we were outside in the cool night air.

And then, just like that, he wrapped his arms around me.

"I missed you so much," he whispered.

And against my better judgment, I whispered back, "Me too."

He pulled back just slightly, just enough to let his eyes wander over me.

"I can't believe how beautiful you look," he murmured, his voice lower, rougher.

I tried to laugh it off. "Do you mind me saying things like that?"

"No," I said when I shouldn't have.

Before I could react, I was pinned against the heavy surface, my breath catching as his body pressed against mine.

His hands settled on either side of my face, thumbs grazing my cheekbones, his breathing uneven. His eyes flickered between mine and my lips, searching, waiting. The heat between us was stifling, the tension thick enough to suffocate me.

"I need to do something or I'll combust," he murmured, voice rough and barely above a whisper.

I should have said something, pushed him away, reminded him of Charlie, of boundaries, of everything that was not supposed to happen between us. But my brain shut off the second his breath ghosted over my mouth.

His lips brushed against mine, the lightest of touches, and my whole body tensed as though I had been struck by lightning. He hesitated there, barely making contact, like he was giving me the chance to pull away. His fingers slid into my hair, his grip featherlight, but grounding. His chest rose and fell against mine, the heat radiating through his shirt.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I still didn't move.

That was all the permission he needed.

He kissed me, slow at first—testing, savouring, waiting. I could taste the vodka from earlier, the warmth of him, the need barely held in check. When I didn't stop him, he deepened the kiss, his lips parting slightly as his tongue flicked against mine. The sensation sent fire through my veins, my fingers curling into his collar, twisting the fabric as though it was the only thing keeping me tethered to the ground.

A soft, helpless noise slipped from my throat before I could stop it. The moment he heard it, something in him snapped. He pressed me harder against the door, his hands gripping my waist as his kisses turned urgent, desperate. My lungs burned from lack of air, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered except this—his lips, his touch, the way he made me feel like I was the only girl in the world.

"Ella," he whispered against my mouth, dragging his lips down my jaw, his breath hot against my skin. "I want you so badly."

I barely had time to register what he said before the door suddenly pushed forward, forcing us apart.

"Shit," Harry muttered, running a hand through his already-messy curls.

Chrys stood in the doorway, lips curled into a knowing smirk. She had definitely walked in at the worst possible moment.

"Someone's looking for you," she said casually.

I was still trying to steady my breathing. "Who?"

Her smirk faded. "Michael."