I’m a 22-year-old bartender from Arizona, and working late nights at a small pub usually feels routine, but lately, it’s been anything but ordinary. It started out like any other closing shift. The bar was quiet, the last stragglers nursing their drinks as Jake and I went about our usual routine. He’s the guy everyone loves funny, easygoing, with just enough charm to make you wonder if there’s more beneath the surface.

I was wiping down the counters when he came up behind me, close enough that I could feel his breath against my neck. “You missed a spot,” he teased, leaning over me to point out a smudge I’d already cleaned.

“Really?” I shot back, rolling my eyes, but my voice wavered just a little. His presence did that to me, left me flustered, wondering if I was imagining the way his hand lingered a second too long when he passed me a drink or how his eyes seemed to follow me around the bar.

As the last customer finally stumbled out, Jake locked the door behind him. “Long night, huh?” he said, stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin.

I turned away quickly, pretending to stack glasses, but my mind wandered. It had been weeks of this—stolen glances, harmless flirting that felt anything but innocent. I kept telling myself it was nothing, just two coworkers passing time. Yet, there was this energy between us, electric and undeniable.

“Hey,” Jake called, breaking me out of my thoughts. He was leaning against the bar now, watching me with that lazy grin of his. “You okay? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, but he didn’t look convinced. Before I could think better of it, I added, “Just tired, I guess.”

Jake walked over, closing the distance between us in a few easy strides. “You sure that’s all it is?” His voice was low, his gaze steady.

My heart was pounding now, but I didn’t back away. “What else would it be?” I asked, though the words felt thin, like a dare hanging in the air between us.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. “I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice softer now. “You tell me.”

The air felt heavy, charged with something neither of us was willing to name. It would have been so easy to lean in, to close the gap and see if the sparks were real. Instead, I stepped back, my face burning.

“We should finish up,” I said quickly, grabbing a rag and turning away before he could see the flush creeping up my neck.

For a moment, Jake didn’t move, and I wondered if I’d imagined the whole thing. But then he laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. “Yeah,” he said, his tone light again. “Wouldn’t want to keep you here all night.”

He walked away, leaving me to catch my breath and wonder what the hell had just happened.