THE BAR
540 Words
I didn’t go home.
I sat on a bench in Central Park at 8pm.
Mateo Vance’s rejection echoing in my ears.
“You’ll hear from HR.”
HR.
Like I was just another resume.
Like five years meant nothing.
Like the way he knew my coffee order meant nothing.
My phone buzzed.
Mom.
“Hey baby, how’d the interview go?”
Her voice was tired. Thinner than last Tuesday.
I pressed my forehead to my knees.
“Good, Ma. They said they’ll call.”
Lie.
The truth sat heavy in my chest.
Her chemo bill was $4,200 this month.
My savings had $312.
Rent was due in 10 days.
The Vance Tower job paid $7,000 a month plus insurance.
I needed that job.
Even if it meant walking past Mateo every morning.
Even if it meant pretending my heart didn’t race at his name.
But could I?
Could I sit across from him and act like a stranger?
Like he didn’t ruin me and rebuild me all at once?
“I’ll let you know, okay? Love you,” I whispered.
Hung up before the tears came.
I needed air.
I walked three blocks to a bar called The Ember.
Dim lights. Loud music.
The kind of place where nobody asked questions.
I ordered whiskey. Straight.
“Rough day?” The bartender asked.
“Rough five years,” I said.
Downed the shot. Ordered another.
That’s when he sat down next to me.
Warm smile.
Messy brown hair.
Eyes the color of whiskey.
He looked like trouble. The safe kind.
“First time here?” he asked.
American accent, soft.
Nothing like Mateo’s sharp CEO tone.
“First time being this pathetic,” I said.
He laughed. Real. Not mocking.
“I’m Noah.
And you don’t look pathetic.
You look like someone who needs a drink buddy and zero judgment.”
“Noah,” I tested his name.
It felt light. Easy.
Nothing like Mateo.
We talked for an hour.
About his dog. About Mom’s garden. About nothing.
He made me laugh.
Real laughs that hurt my cheeks.
For 60 minutes I forgot Vance Tower.
Forgot Mateo’s shadow.
Forgot the chemo bills.
“Need a cab?” Noah asked.
He waved one down. Opened the door.
Didn’t ask for my number. Didn’t push.
Just safe.
All night in my tiny apartment, I tried to sleep.
But my mind wouldn’t shut up.
Mateo’s voice: “You’ll hear from HR.”
Cold. Final.
But Noah’s smile kept creeping in.
The way his arm brushed mine.
How safe he made me feel.
I tossed. Turned.
Sheets tangled around my legs.
My body felt restless.
Thoughts of Mateo’s dark eyes on me across a desk.
Of the way he used to touch my wrist like he owned my pulse.
I pressed my pillow to my face.
Tried to breathe. Tried to forget.
Tried to want Noah instead.
Sleep came heavy and restless.
I woke up tangled in sheets.
Mateo’s name still on my lips.
Not Noah’s.
Two days later, my email dinged.
Mom’s appointment.
*Subject: Offer - Executive Assistant Position, Vance Enterprises*
My hands shook as I opened it.
Congratulations. You’ve been selected...
I got the job.
Mateo was waiting for me at Vance Tower
- Writer
