A DEAL WITH THE CAPTAIN

3. EXES

CHAPTER THREE

LISA’S POV

EXES

If I’m being completely honest, I'd say closing time is my favorite part of the shift. But then again, most people can relate to that. By the time the last customer stumbles out of Ray's, it's almost four in the morning and I’m certain the only people I’ll be seeing on the streets are people leaving bars or the occasional patrol cars. The deafening music has finally been cut, leaving behind an almost eerie silence broken only by the scrape of chairs across the floor and the clink of glasses being stacked behind the bar. After hours of shouting over drunken students and pouring what feels like a thousand tequila shots, the quiet feels almost sacred.

Cassie and I finish counting the register before handing it over to Ray, who disappears into his tiny office to go over the night's earnings. The other staff have mostly left too already. We clock out, shrug into our jackets, and grab our purses from the employee lockers. Before stepping outside, we instinctively check that our pepper sprays are exactly where they're supposed to be. Call us paranoid but I'd rather call us alive. The world isn't exactly kind to women going home in the middle of the night, especially after a bar closes. We've both heard enough horror stories to know that caution isn't pessimism; it's a survival instinct.

"So..." Cassie begins as we push through the front door into the cool night air. "Remember that guy from my economics class?"

"The one who keeps pretending he needs help with assignments he definitely understands?"

She grins, "That's the one."

"What about him?"

"He asked if I'd want to grab coffee sometime."

I bump my shoulder against hers, "And?"

"I don't know." She smiles slyly.

"You don't know?"

"I think he likes me."

"I think that's been obvious for at least three weeks now, Cassie,"

She lets out an embarrassed laugh, looking down at the pavement as we make our way toward the parking lot.

"I just don't know if I should say yes."

"I do." She looks at me expectantly, "It’s free coffee."

That earns me an eye roll, "I was hoping for actual advice."

"I gave you actual advice."

She snorts, "You're impossible."

"And you're overthinking it."

The conversation dies as we reach the edge of the parking lot. There are still a handful of people lingering outside despite the late hour, most of them saying their goodbyes before heading home. My eyes drift across the rows of parked cars until they stop on a familiar black Jeep. Hunter is exactly where I'd expect him to be. One arm is braced against the driver's side door while a new blonde presses herself against him, her hands tangled in the front of his shirt as they make out like the rest of the world doesn't exist. I wonder what happened with another girl he’d been flirting with all night. I roll my eyes so hard they nearly disappear into the back of my head. Some people really do live up to their reputations.

"Hey."

The voice makes me freeze, Bill stepping into my line of view. My stomach sinks before I can stop it. Cassie glances between us once before taking several strategic steps backward.

"I'm... uh... gonna wait for you over there."

"Cassie-"

Too late. The traitor is already speed-walking toward her car, pretending to be fascinated by absolutely nothing.

Coward.

I let out a slow breath before turning to face Bill, folding my arms across my chest like armor,"I don't have time for this."

He shoves both hands into the pockets of his jeans, swaying just enough for me to notice he's quite drunk.

"I just wanted to talk."

"Whatever you have to say," I reply coolly, "I'm sure whichever girl was sitting on your lap tonight would love to hear it."

His shoulders sag,"It's not like that."

I nearly laugh. Of course it's like that. Who does he think I’m? The same Lisa that was so naive and would draw dreams of her and him together for life? Unfortunately for me, none of that changes the fact that Bill Turner is unfairly attractive. His dark hair is slightly messy, his sleeves are rolled to his forearms, and the stupid leather jacket he always wears somehow makes him look even better under the parking lot lights.

It's incredibly inconvenient.

Especially considering I've spent months trying to convince myself I no longer notice him. Even more inconvenient is the fact that my body remembers him far better than my pride would like to admit.

"Lisa..." His voice softens. "Can we talk? Please?"

He's tipsy but not drunk enough to slur his words. Just enough that the walls he's spent months building around himself seem to have cracked. If someone looked only into his eyes, they'd probably think he was the sweetest guy on campus. Regret sits there so openly it almost looks real. Almost.

"No." The single word leaves my mouth without hesitation.

Bill exhales heavily, dropping his gaze to the asphalt before looking back at me. For one stupid, traitorous second, my attention catches on the rise and fall of his chest-the same broad chest I'd fallen asleep against more nights than I could count. Memories threaten to pull me under before I violently shove them aside. Those memories don't belong to me anymore.

"Please," he says again, his voice quieter this time. "I miss you."

When I don't answer, he continues, "I miss us."

I hate those f*****g butterflies awakening in my stomach.

"You f****d someone else," I snap, several months’' worth of restraint threatening to splinter through the walls I tried building around myself, "Barely forty-eight hours after I made one drunken, angry rant about maybe breaking up."

His face crumples,"And I hate myself for it every single day."

"Really?" I laugh bitterly. "Because from where I'm standing, it doesn't look like self-hatred. It looks like you've been auditioning to become the biggest manwhore on campus."

His jaw tightens, "Those girls don't mean anything. They can never be you, Lisa,"

"They certainly seem to mean enough for you to parade a different one around every weekend."

"They're just distractions."

"Congratulations," I say, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "You've done an amazing job distracting yourself."

"No." He shakes his head immediately. "From you? Never."

For just a second, neither of us speaks. The silence between us is thick, heavy with everything we never got the chance to say and everything that's already too late. And I’m aware of the control slipping through my fingers, all the emotions I have tried to bury, surfacing.

“Stay away from,” I say, walking past him before he can stop me.

I just can’t handle this tonight.