"Are you going out tonight?" Jen is leaning against my doorway, looking at me sprawled out on my bed, a book propped up in front of me.

"That's the plan," I say absentmindedly as I flip to the next page.

"At the Cloud?" she continues.

"Mhmm," I hum, nodding my head slightly. "For happy hour."

Every Thursday night, the Cloud Bar has Happy hour, and I've made it a habit to swing by. The place is less crowded since it's a weeknight, and the patrons tend to be under fifty. Cheap drinks, good music, and hot people, what's not to love?

I still have yet to lift my head from my book, hoping to finish the chapter before I start getting ready, but Jen continues hovering. My eyes flick up to her, eyes narrowing a bit at her slightly nervous demeanor. "Why?"

"Can I join?" Her fingers are playing with the cross hanging around her neck, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.

"Sure... Don't you have class in the morning?" Jen rarely goes out with me on weekdays, and Darren takes up most of her time on the weekend.

"Not till ten," she says dismissively.

"Alright, of course, you can come." I sit up, throwing the book aside. "Want me to do your makeup?"

After we both get ready, Jen gets out her car keys, and I lock up the apartment behind me. I slide into the passenger seat of Jen's car, which she got back from the mechanics today. She's been weirdly quiet the whole night, and I notice her fingers nervously fidgeting with the steering wheel.

"You know you didn't have to drive, right? We could have gotten an Uber," I say, frowning at her.

"I don't want to drink. Besides, I'm not staying long," she replies casually, but I've known her for too long not to notice the slightly tense undertone.

"Jen, is everything okay?"

"Yeah." She shoots me a somewhat convincing smile. "Why wouldn't it be?"

I raise an eyebrow, blinking at her slowly. "We both know you're gonna tell me eventually."

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and she looks over her shoulder before turning left. "I had a fight with Darren."

It's a testament to my perfect poker face that I don't immediately scowl at this. "What happened?"

What I really want to ask is; what did he do, and how badly do I need to beat him up? But Jen wouldn't appreciate me assuming he's at fault, although I would be willing to bet my left kidney that that's the case.

"He thinks I should drop out of school." She keeps her eyes on the road, which I suppose is responsible for a driver, but it seems more like she's trying to avoid my gaze.

I close my eyes briefly, fighting the urge to throw open the door and hunt down the sleazeball, but I stay in my seat.

"We've talked about me staying home once we have kids, at least for the first couple of years, and I really think I want to do that." She glances over at me, an earnest look on her face as if she's trying to prove to me that she means it. She doesn't have to; I believe she thinks that's what she wants. It doesn't explain why he wants her to stop her education now, though. "He says it might be nice for me to have more time for wedding planning, and I suppose he has a point. And he says it doesn't really make sense for me to do another two years if I'm just gonna end up staying home, which I guess makes sense."

I hate having to listen to her trying to justify his behavior. This doesn't have anything to do with him wanting to help her ease up on her workload. He knows, just as well as me, that if Jen doesn't get her master's in social work, she won't be able to work with the placement of foster kids like she wants to. Sure, she'll probably still be able to land a job with her bachelor's and excellent references from volunteer work, but it won't be what she actually wants to do, and it'll be with a much lower salary.

He's trying to bind her financially to him, so she'll rely even more on him once they get married. It's disgustingly obvious, at least as an outsider.

"You said you fought?" I ask, keeping my voice level.

She frowns, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "I know he's coming from a good place." She's dead wrong, but I don't point that out. "And I do want to stay home with the kids, but I don't want to give up on my dream."

I know she doesn't. She's wanted to work with the foster system for ages, and ever since she started volunteering at the rec-center, talking to these kids, she's just been confirmed in that. It can be a tough field with a lot of hard realities; however, Jen was born to do this. She's gentle and strong and I am going to break Darren's fingers before I allow him to make her give up the things she loves.

It's not in my nature to bite my tongue, but I would rather draw blood than accuse Jen of staying with an emotionally manipulative partner. Nothing good could come from me attacking her, and any way I approach this, it would feel like an attack. So I take the safe route.

"Didn't you guys want to wait a while before having kids?" I ask instead, trying to sound slightly confused, despite the fact that I know for sure that they've fought over this exact subject several times. Jen isn't ready for kids, but surprise, surprise, the douche canoe can't wait to knock her up. She won't be able to run if she's as wide as she is tall.

She nods, running her fingers down the side of the steering wheel, stealing a look at me, which I ignore. She clears her throat. "Yeah, we've agreed on two years."

"Okay, and I can help out with any wedding planning if it's taking a toll on you," I offer, although the idea is making me want to gauge my eyes out. "So maybe it won't be necessary for you to drop out. It might be nice to have your degree when the kids are older, right?" I send her a smile that's as innocent as they come. I don't want her thinking I'm trying to undermine Darren, as it'll only raise her defenses. I learned that the hard way.

I'll find a way to talk her out of the wedding eventually. Over my dead body will she be tied to this man for life.

"You're right," she says slowly, frowning a little, before glancing at me with a smile. "Yeah, I'll talk to Darren about it. Thanks."

I once again wonder if the ten years I would get behind bars for murdering Darren in cold blood would be worth Jen getting out from under his thumb.

And if I thought for even a second that she would ever forgive me, I might just have done it.

🏊‍♂️

I saunter back to the table Jen picked out for us with our drinks in hand. A soda for Jen and G&T for me.

There's a fine turnout tonight, but nothing too crazy. Jen and I share idle chit chatter as I let my eyes sweep over the area once in a while.

"See anyone you like?" Jen asks, noticing my wandering gaze. She's aware that Thursday is a prime hook-up night.

I smirk at her, casually indicating the corner of the bar with my head. "She's pretty cute."

Jen's eyes land on the blonde in the corner wearing a small mini-skirt and talking animatedly to her friend. She looks back at me. "Sure. Why don't you make a move?"

"Oh, I'm just enjoying your company. You so rarely come out with me."

It wasn't meant as a jab, but I see her wincing slightly, and I scramble for a change in topic, landing on the washer we need to get fixed. Jen is telling me how she already called our landlord when I get a text from a colleague. I skim it, making sure it's nothing urgent before I look up at Jen again, but she's stopped talking, her attention fixed on something behind me.

"Oh wow," she breathes incredulously, her blue eyes widen a fraction, flickering back to me. "You'll never guess who just walked in."

Chances are, she's right. It could be just about anyone, but judging by the barely restrained excitement on her face, I'm guessing it's someone positive.

"Who?" I ask, beginning to turn my head, but Jen stops me.

"Don't look!" she hisses, sending me a pointed glance, though unable to keep her eyes away herself. I chuckle before disregarding her order and scanning the bar.

There are several good-looking people scattered around, but as my eyes land on the tall, handsome guy sitting at the bar with his side to us, I immediately know he's who she was referring to.

Jayden Sennels.

He's this local swimmer who just went to the Olympic Games in Paris this summer.

Now, I have no objections to sports per se. I understand the physiological and mental benefits of exercising, and I even partake in it on occasion myself. I can, to some extent, also understand the sense of unity and belonging that people gain from team sports, although I would never be caught dead at something like that - what I can in absolutely no way phantom is the enjoyment someone would get from sitting on their couch watching other people do sports on the television.

Whereas I was very content to spend those precious days of sunshine we were granted this summer relaxing outside, Jen had a different approach. Whenever there are any big, international sporting events such as the Olympics, the nationalist in Jen rears its eagle head, waving the Stars and Stripes and screeching the national anthem from the top of its lungs.

She was glued to that screen all summer. I would find her in the dark in the living room some nights, when I got home at three in the morning, watching fencing or some other discipline she has never before shown any interest in. And whenever we were home at the same time, she would tempt me with snacks to get me to watch with her.

That's how I ended up hearing the name Jayden Sennels spoken several times, accompanied by the live footage of this fine specimen of a man getting ready to jump into the big Olympic pool and do whatever it is that he does. Of all the sports, swimming really isn't the worst. At least there's eye candy.

Jen wouldn't stop talking about Jayden and this other dude, who apparently goes to U-M too. School spirits had never really mattered to her before, but suddenly, supporting local athletes had utmost priority. I secretly think she just enjoyed the view too. Who can blame her when she's used to staring at Darren.

The fangirly look in her eyes confirms that it was indeed Jayden she was talking about when I turn back to Jen.

"You should go talk to him," I say, sipping my drink.

"What?" she gasps, blushing a little. "I can't do that."

Of course not.

"I can," I say, emptying my glass before standing up.

"What are you doing?" she asks nervously, eyes flickering between the swimmer at the bar and me.

"You're good to drive home, right?" I ask her, picking up my clutch, smirking at her. "Just in case you'll be leaving alone, you know."

"Soph." She sounds outraged, those blue eyes glaring at me with a mixture of exasperation and admonishment. She lowers her voice a little as if anyone is listening in on our conversation, "are you going to hit on him?"

"That was the plan."

"You can't do that." Au contraire. "Do you really want to be one of those girls who throw themselves at a famous athlete?"

I pause, gnawing on the inside of my cheek as I send her a thoughtful expression. Then I shrug, nodding. "Yeah, pretty much."

When I turn to leave, she calls out to me. "Sophie!"

I've already taken a few steps, so I turn to look at my best friend, slightly amused at her reaction. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"I don't know." She throws her hands up in the air. "Syphilis?"

I roll my eyes, fighting the smile before I send her a wink. "They have pills for those kinds of things." Then I turn on my heels, forgetting about the cute blonde from before, wandering over towards the hottie.

He's wearing a blue shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans, a sleeve of tattoos peek out on his left arm, a variety of black motives that somehow look both random and intentional. His dark brown hair is cut short at the sides, leaving it a little longer on top. He's sporting a bit of scruff, making him look downright edible. He's even more impressive in person, tall and with long, taut muscles. He could probably snap me in half.

If he plays his cards right, I might just let him later.

I make no attempt to hide my interest as I approach him, taking the seat next to him. I turn my head slightly, sending him a flirtatious smile. His eyes connect with mine, and I almost suck in a breath.

My God, he is good-looking. The things I would do to him. Those brilliant, sapphire blue eyes are scanning me slowly, a slight lopsided grin on his face indicating that he's not unfamiliar with this kind of attention from women or the internal dialogue that accompanies it.

I turn to him fully, crossing one leg over the other, showing off my long bronzed legs, which are on full display in the tight, black skirt I'm wearing.

As his eyes end back up on my face, I let my tongue peek out, wetting my lips. He follows the movement, entranced. "Buy me a drink?"

The smirk lets me know he appreciates my direct approach. "Certainly," he says, his voice low and deep, wrapping around me and making a shiver run down my spine. "Pick your poison."

"Cyanide," I answer without missing a beat. A look of uncertainty crosses his features, and his eyes try inconspicuously darting down to the drinks menu on the bar between us as if he's checking whether or not that's an actual drink they serve.

I suppose I can't blame him; all that chlorine probably bleached his brain.

I decide to put him out of his misery. "Macallan Lalique on the rocks, double."

He lifts an eyebrow impressed. "You know your alcohol."

"No." I smile cheekily, biting down on my bottom lip. "It's just the most expensive item on the menu."

This time he clearly scans the menu, realizing that I'm right. His gaze lifts to me again, and there's something akin to amusement simmering in his blue eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, he lifts two fingers in the air, signaling the bartender. When he stops in front of us, Jayden looks at him, rattling off my order and requesting a beer for himself.

I frown slightly. "I didn't think swimmers drank alcohol?"

Something about it not being good for their muscles.

"So you know who I am?" He lifts an eyebrow, clearly pleased with this, but I'm not sure it actually counts as flattery. This city seems obsessed with his sport.

"I don't think it's possible to live in Ann Arbor and not know who you are," I point out with a shrug. I've seen his face on magazines, the TV, and even the odd billboard for the University of Michigan these last few months.

"So you like swimming?" he asks, not acknowledging his local star status.

"Oh yeah, favorite sport," I reply with way too much faux enthusiasm. "You're so good at the thirty-yard backflip."

I'm pretty certain pools aren't measured in yards, and that backflip isn't actually a swim discipline, but I have no idea what it is he does in that pool, besides not drowning. Jayden's smug smile grows a bit more, only confirming what I already knew. He seems to find some amusement in my ineptitude, his eyes flitting back and forth between mine as if he's trying to figure out whether or not I'm joking.

I keep eye contact, my poker face not wavering in the slightest.

He might just turn out to be fun to play with.

The bartender returns with our drinks, stopping our staredown and producing a bill. Before Jayden has the chance, I slip my card to the guy behind the bar.

The hot swimmer next to me frowns. "I thought you wanted me to pay."

"It's just an icebreaker," I answer truthfully with a shrug. Ordering expensive whiskey simply because I knew someone else was paying would be pretty rude, even for me.

He looks uncomfortable, shuffling a bit and fishing money out from his wallet. "At least let me pay for my own drink."

I take a sip of my whiskey. It's actually pretty good, worth every penny. I glance over at him, shaking my head. "I don't want your money." It's not like two drinks are going to put me out, and I don't expect him to pay just because he probably makes buckets of money compared to me.

This stops him, his hand falling to the bar. He leans his weight a bit to the side, watching me with his head tilted. Intense eyes locking me in. "Then what do you want?" he asks in a husky tone.

The air is suddenly charged with tension, practically simmering between us. I take another sip before placing my glass back down. Licking my lips, I catch the drops of whiskey lingering there.

I lean forward, placing a hand on his thigh and moving my head so my mouth is hovering beside his ear. "I think you know exactly what I want." 

A/N: 
Oop, wonder what might happen now 🙈
What do you think so far?
Also, last warning to the kids out there, this story is for adults! Kindly piss off.
- Hanna 💙