6
973 Words
Friday nights at Harbor Flame were always loud, but this one felt like the walls were closing in. Every table was full. The open grill threw heat across the room. Orders kept coming and the tickets on the rail never seemed to shrink.
Lily moved fast between the bar and the floor, apron strings tight around her waist, hair pulled back in a messy knot. She dropped off two plates of the smoked brisket special, smiled at a regular, and turned toward the corner booth.
That was when she felt it.
A thick hand landed on her hip and squeezed. Hard. The man in the booth was maybe forty, face shiny with sweat and beer. His eyes dragged over her in a way that made her skin crawl.
“Damn, sweetheart,” he said, voice loud enough for the next table to hear. “You got a real nice shape under that apron. What time do you get off? I could show you a better way to spend the night than carrying plates.”
Lily’s stomach turned. She stepped back, ready to tell him exactly where he could put that hand, but she never got the chance.
Leo was already there.
One second he was behind the grill. The next he was at the booth. He didn’t say a word at first. He just reached down, grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt, and hauled him straight out of the seat like he weighed nothing. The man’s beer glass tipped and spilled across the table.
“Hey—what the hell—” the customer started.
Leo’s voice came out low and flat, the kind of quiet that was worse than yelling. “You don’t touch her. You don’t talk to her like that. You’re done here.”
He dragged the man through the dining room. Customers stared. Mateo froze with a plate in his hands. Lily stood still, heart hammering, as Leo shoved the front door open with his shoulder and threw the guy out onto the sidewalk. The man stumbled, almost fell, then spun around with a red face.
“You can’t—”
Leo stepped out after him. Whatever he said next was too low for Lily to catch, but the customer’s mouth shut fast. A minute later the man was gone, walking away under the streetlights without looking back.
Leo came inside, locked the door behind him even though they weren’t closed yet, and went straight back to the grill like nothing had happened. His jaw was tight. The muscle in his cheek jumped once. He didn’t look at her.
The rest of the night dragged. People kept eating and drinking, but the easy noise from earlier never fully returned. Lily forced smiles, refilled drinks, and tried not to keep glancing toward the grill. Every time she did, Leo was focused on the food, shoulders stiff under his black shirt.
When the last table finally left, the silence felt heavy. Mateo and the servers cleaned up fast and clocked out. Lily locked the front door and started wiping down the bar, the same way she always did. The cloth moved in slow circles over the wood. Her hands still felt shaky.
Leo shut off the grill and began cleaning the flat top. The only sounds were the scrape of his scraper and the soft swish of her rag.
She risked a look at him.
He was already looking at her.
Not at her eyes. At her mouth. His gaze sat there, dark and steady, like he was thinking about something he shouldn’t. The air between them pulled tight. Lily’s breath caught. For a second neither of them moved.
Then he blinked and turned his head fast toward the specials chalkboard on the far wall.
“Inventory’s off on the whiskey,” he said, voice rough. “I’ll count it tomorrow.”
Lily swallowed. Her fingers tightened on the rag. “Okay.”
He kept his eyes on the board. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” She forced the word out. “Thanks… for that.”
Leo gave a short nod. He didn’t say you’re welcome. He didn’t say the guy had it coming. He just picked up a clean towel and kept wiping the already clean steel like it needed extra work.
Lily finished the bar and moved to the tables. Every time she bent to wipe a surface she felt the ghost of that stranger’s hand on her hip, but it faded under the stronger memory of Leo’s face when he had grabbed the man. That look had not belonged to a calm roommate or a business partner. It had belonged to someone who would break bones if he had to.
She carried the last tray of glasses to the kitchen. Leo was still there, stacking clean pans with more force than necessary.
“I’m heading up,” she said.
He nodded again without turning. “Night.”
Lily climbed the stairs to the apartment. The living room lights were off. She left them that way. In her room she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her hands. They had finally stopped shaking.
Downstairs she heard the back door open and close. A moment later the familiar rumble of the Harley started in the alley. Leo was going for a ride. He always did when something got under his skin.
Lily lay back on the bed and listened until the sound of the engine faded into the night. The apartment felt too quiet without it. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about the way he had looked at her mouth, or the way her pulse had jumped when he did.
They were roommates. Partners. Friends.
That was all.
She repeated the words until she almost believed them.
- Writer
