The dive bar on the edge of town was a dump, plain and simple. The air was thick with the stench of stale beer, regret, and the faint musk of desperation. Flickering neon signs buzzed overhead, casting a sickly green glow over the sticky tables and cracked vinyl stools. I was slumped over one of those tables, my forehead dangerously close to a puddle of something I didn’t want to identify, nursing a lukewarm beer that tasted like piss and heartbreak. My girlfriend—ex-girlfriend, I reminded myself with a bitter twist in my gut—had just ripped my heart out and stomped on it with her stilettos. Three years down the drain, and all I had to show for it was a half-empty bank account and a playlist of sappy songs I couldn’t stop playing.
I was halfway through mentally composing a pathetic text to beg her back when the door swung open with a creak, letting in a gust of cool night air and the unmistakable sound of boots stomping with purpose. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Only one person walked like they owned every damn room they entered.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the saddest sack of shit in this shithole,” Stacy’s voice cut through the haze of my misery like a switchblade. My lifelong best friend—and resident pain in my ass—plopped down across from me, the legs of her chair scraping against the grimy floor. She was decked out in her usual uniform: ripped jeans that hugged her legs like a second skin, a black leather jacket that screamed trouble, and a smirk that could make a priest question his vows. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, a few strands framing her sharp, no-nonsense face as she sized me up with those piercing hazel eyes.
“Fuck off, Stace,” I mumbled, taking a swig of my beer just to avoid meeting her gaze. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Oh, I can see that, princess,” she shot back, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, completely unbothered by the sticky surface. “You look like someone just drowned your puppy in a vat of cheap vodka. Let me guess—she dumped your sorry ass, and now you’re here crying into your piss-water beer like a whiny little bitch.”
I glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. Stacy had been calling me out on my bullshit since we were kids stealing candy from the corner store. She didn’t do sympathy, and honestly, I didn’t want it. “You’re a real sweetheart, you know that? Remind me why we’re friends again?”
“Because I’m the only one who’ll tell you the truth, dumbass,” she said, waving a hand at the bartender. “Yo, Jimmy! Whiskey neat, and make it quick. I’ve got a pathetic loser to babysit over here.” The grizzled old man behind the counter just grunted and slid a glass her way. Stacy caught it with ease, took a long sip, and let out a satisfied sigh. “Goddamn, that’s the stuff. Now, spill. What’d she do? Cheat on you with some frat boy? Tell you your dick’s too small? Or did she just finally realize you’re a walking disaster?”
I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. “She said I wasn’t ‘ambitious enough.’ Said she needed someone with a ‘future.’ Whatever the hell that means.”
Stacy barked out a laugh, loud enough to turn a few heads in the nearly empty bar. “Oh, that’s rich. She wanted a sugar daddy, not a boyfriend. And you’re sitting here moping over that? Christ, man, you dodged a bullet. You should be thanking her for setting you free.”
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, staring into the dregs of my beer. “You don’t know what it’s like to have your whole damn life implode in one conversation.”
She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, the leather of her jacket creaking. “Boo-fucking-hoo. You think I haven’t been there? I’ve had my heart stomped on plenty, and you don’t see me drowning in cheap booze over it. You’re better than this, dude. Stop acting like your world ended just because some chick didn’t see your worth. Her loss, not yours.”
I wanted to argue, to tell her she didn’t get it, but the fire in her eyes shut me up. Stacy didn’t mess around when it came to cutting through the bullshit. Still, I couldn’t shake the ache in my chest, the gnawing frustration of being tossed aside like yesterday’s trash. “Yeah, well, I don’t feel ‘better’ right now. I feel like shit. And I’m horny as hell, which makes it worse.”
Her smirk widened into something downright dangerous, and she leaned forward again, her voice dropping to a low, teasing purr. “Oh, is that the real problem? Poor baby’s all pent up with nowhere to go?” She tilted her head, studying me like a predator sizing up prey. “You know, I could help with that.”
I blinked, my beer halfway to my mouth, sure I’d misheard her. “What?”
“You heard me,” she said, her tone dripping with challenge as she took another sip of her whiskey, never breaking eye contact. “I’m offering a solution to your little… frustration problem. No strings, no bullshit. Just you, me, and a whole lot of fun. I’ll fuck the heartbreak right out of you, sweetheart. All you gotta do is say yes.”
My jaw dropped, and for a moment, I couldn’t form a coherent thought. Stacy had always been blunt, but this? This was a whole new level. “You’re… you’re serious?” I stammered, my face heating up despite the dim lighting.
She laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Do I look like I’m joking? Come on, don’t play coy with me. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. You’ve been curious for years, haven’t you? Wondering what it’d be like to get a taste of this.” She gestured to herself with a wicked grin, daring me to deny it.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. She wasn’t wrong. I’d always noticed her—how could I not? Stacy was a force of nature, all sharp edges and raw energy, with a body that could stop traffic and a mouth that could start a war. But she was my best friend. Crossing that line… it was insane. “Stace, we’ve known each other since we were kids. You’re like family. This is—”
“Don’t give me that ‘family’ crap,” she interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m not asking for a ring or a white picket fence. I’m talking about scratching an itch, plain and simple. You’re a mess, I’m bored, and I’m damn good at what I do. So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna sit here wallowing, or are you gonna man up and take what I’m offering?”
Her words hung in the air, heavy and electric, as the tension between us crackled like a live wire. My heart was pounding, torn between shock and a primal, undeniable pull. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Stacy just leaned back in her chair, that cocky grin never wavering, her eyes glinting with mischief and promise.
“Well?” she pressed, arching a brow. “I’m waiting, hotshot. Clock’s ticking.”
And just like that, I was caught in the storm that was Stacy, unsure if I was about to crash or soar.
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