9. Ally

Chapter 9

Ally

I wiped down the bar, grateful for the distraction. The breakup with Nick had left me reeling, and this job was a lifeline. I needed to focus on something else, anything else.

Thomas sat across from me, a rugged, brooding presence that commanded the room. He was good at making me forget, if only for a little while.

Just then, Simon's voice cut through the noise of the bar. "Oy, Al! We're closing up. Tell James Dean over there to leave."

I turned to Thomas, a shy smile playing on my lips as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I guess it's time for you to leave."

Thomas leaned back, his eyes locking onto mine. "Hmm," he mused, as if considering something profound. "You know, maybe I'll wait and walk you to your car."

"I'm perfectly capable of walking there myself," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

He raised an eyebrow. "It's called being a gentleman. Humor me."

His insistence was disarming, and despite myself, I found it charming. "Fine," I relented, unable to suppress a small smile. "But only because most guys aren't gentlemen. And don’t expect me to make a habit of this."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied with a grin that sent warmth flooding through me. "Sounds like you dealt with an asshole."

I tossed Thomas a rag. "Use those skills I taught you and help me wipe down the bar," I said, flashing a smile. "Please."

He caught the rag with ease, but his eyes never left mine. "You avoiding the question?"

We started wiping down the bar, moving in tandem. The rhythm of cleaning provided a strange comfort. "It's complicated," I began, keeping my eyes on the counter. "He wasn't a bad guy, just... troubled."

"Sounds like the asshole needs discipline," Thomas muttered.

"Yeah, well, I guess his dad was never around and his mom..." My voice trailed off, unsure how much to reveal.

"What?" Thomas prompted, leaning in slightly.

"Well, they say never speak ill of people, but..." I hesitated, then shrugged.

"You didn't like her?"

"He was a mama's boy," I admitted.

"How long were you together?"

"Eight months," I said. "Serious, but not living together."

Thomas nodded, processing my words. "How was he? As a partner?"

"Partner?" I frowned, considering the term. "I don't think I'd use that word. Honestly, he was sweet. Good at what he did. But selfish. Every now and then, his temper..."

Thomas's jaw tightened. "Did he hit you?"

"No," I said quickly. "Never. But... When things were good, they were great. But when they weren't…" I smirked, but it was hallow. "I'm a redhead. I have a temper too. It wasn't just him, but… I didn't want to keep living in that up and down cycle, you know? Especially since he traveled for work a lot, and when he would get back, there was something he had an issue with. And then the cycle would start and I would promise myself I wouldn't be baited, but he knew exactly what to say…" I shook my head. "Sorry. I don't want to talk about him."

"Sounds like a pussy," Thomas muttered.

"A pussy?" I couldn't help but laugh at the bluntness of his words.

He looked at me, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. "Yeah. Only cowards use fear to control someone."

We continued wiping down the bar, our movements almost synchronized. The rag glided over the smooth surface, catching remnants of spilled drinks and crumbs. The rhythmic back-and-forth motion was oddly soothing, a temporary escape from the chaos of my thoughts.

"How did you end up here?" Thomas asked, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

I glanced at him, considering how much to reveal. "Needed a change of pace," I said, keeping it vague. "Photography isn't paying the bills yet, but it's my passion… what I'm going to school for."

He nodded, accepting my half-truth. "Photography, huh? What do you shoot?"

"People," I replied, focusing on a particularly stubborn spot on the bar. "Emotions, moments... Trying to capture something real."

Thomas paused, as if weighing his next words. "That sounds... intense."

I shrugged. "It can be. But it's also... therapeutic."

"Therapeutic?" he echoed, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yeah," I said, feeling a twinge of vulnerability creeping in. "Sometimes it's easier to see things through a lens than to face them head-on."

He stopped wiping and looked at me, his expression softening. "I get that," he said quietly. "More than you know."

For a moment, we just stood there, rags in hand, surrounded by the faint hum of the bar's closing activities. Simon was busy counting the till at the other end of the room, oblivious to our conversation.

"So," Thomas finally said, breaking the silence, but not the intensity of our shared gaze. "You gonna let me walk you to your car?"

I hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Sure," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Why not?"

We finished wiping down the bar in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. The simple act of cleaning felt almost ritualistic, like we were both scrubbing away more than just dirt and grime.

When we were done, I tossed my rag into a bin and turned to face Thomas. He was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read—part curiosity, part something deeper.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied, grabbing my jacket from behind the counter.

As we walked towards the door, I felt a strange sense of anticipation mingling with my usual guardedness. Maybe tonight wasn't about forgetting after all. Maybe it was about something else entirely—something unexpected and new.

But for now, it was just a walk to my car with a man who made me feel seen in a way I hadn't felt in a long time.

And that was enough.

Simon shot me a knowing look as he flipped the lights off one by one. The bar felt suddenly intimate in the dim glow of the remaining bulbs.

"Guess that's our cue," Thomas said, standing up and offering his hand.

I hesitated for just a moment before taking it, feeling an unexpected thrill at the touch of his warm skin against mine. This night had been full of surprises—good ones—and I wasn’t quite ready for it to end.

Stepping outside, I immediately felt the cold sting of raindrops pelting against my skin. "Oh my gosh, it's pouring!" I shrieked, laughter bubbling up despite myself.

Thomas grinned and grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the parking lot.

We sprinted through the downpour, my laughter mingling with the sound of rain hammering the pavement. By the time we reached my car, we were both drenched, water streaming from our hair and clothes.

I turned to look at him, and for a moment, I was struck by his presence. He stood there like some dark, brooding hero straight out of a comic book. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and his intense eyes seemed to burn even in the dim light. His jawline was sharp, his lips set in a determined line. There was something about him that reminded me of someone from the Golden Age of Hollywood—charismatic yet intimidating.

He was staring at me with an intensity that made my breath catch. The laughter died in my throat as his eyes bore into mine, stripping away any pretense or walls I had built around myself.

Before I could react or even think, he leaned forward and kissed me. The rain continued to pour down on us, but in that moment, everything else faded away. His lips were firm yet gentle against mine, and for a heartbeat or two, the world stopped spinning.

I melted into the kiss, feeling the warmth of his body despite the cold rain soaking us both. It was unexpected but somehow inevitable—a culmination of all the unspoken words and stolen glances.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing heavily. The intensity in his eyes hadn't diminished; if anything, it had deepened. And I found myself wanting more—more than just this kiss in the rain.

More… with him.

I felt the words catch in my throat, a jumble of confusion and desire. "I... I don't…" I murmured, my voice barely audible over the pounding rain.

"Yeah," Thomas said gruffly, his breath warm against my cheek.

"But I want..." The admission slipped out before I could stop it.

In an instant, his lips were on mine again, more urgent this time. The kiss was searing, and all the coldness from the rain evaporated in the heat between us. My back slammed against the car, the impact jarring but grounding me in the moment. His hands gripped my waist with a possessiveness that made my heart race.

His body pressed into mine, solid and unyielding. I felt every muscle, every contour of his frame against me, and it was like being enveloped by a force of nature. His mouth moved hungrily against mine, and I responded with equal fervor, my hands threading through his wet hair.

The rain continued to pour down on us, but it was a distant sensation now. All that mattered was the fire igniting between us, burning away the lingering shadows of our pasts. His fingers dug into my hips as if he needed to anchor himself to me, and I arched into him, craving more of that connection.

Our breaths mingled, ragged and desperate, as the kiss deepened. I could taste the rain on his lips mixed with something uniquely him—something that made me dizzy with longing. His hands roamed over my body with an urgency that matched my own need.

The cold metal of the car door pressed against my back was a shock compared to the heat between us. It grounded me in reality, even as everything else seemed to blur away. My mind screamed that this was reckless, but my body refused to listen. Every fiber of my being was attuned to him, craving more of his touch, more of his intensity.

When we finally broke apart for air, both of us were panting heavily. Our foreheads rested together as we tried to catch our breath. His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—not the rain soaking through our clothes or the chaos of our tangled pasts. All that existed was this raw connection between us, something neither of us could deny any longer.

"Come home with me," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "Before I fuck you against the car."

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. The rain pelted us relentlessly, each drop a reminder of the madness of this moment. I wasn’t this kind of girl—wasn’t the type to lose herself in impulsive decisions. Especially not after just breaking up with my boyfriend. This wasn't a good idea. My rational mind screamed at me to step back, to think it through.

But then there was the way Thomas looked at me, the way his touch set my skin on fire. His words hung in the air between us, charged with electricity. A thousand reasons why this was wrong flashed through my mind, but they were drowned out by the roaring need coursing through my veins.

"Thomas…" I began, but my voice faltered. The conviction I wanted to project crumbled under the weight of his intense gaze.

He didn't say anything more, just watched me with those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through my defenses. His hands tightened slightly on my waist, grounding me even as everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

A part of me wanted to pull away, to put some distance between us and regain my composure. But another part—a part I barely recognized—yearned for more of this reckless abandon. My recent heartbreak had left a void inside me, one that Thomas seemed capable of filling, even if just for a night.

I shouldn't do this. I knew that much. But the word "shouldn't" felt flimsy in the face of the undeniable chemistry crackling between us.

"Okay," I whispered finally, my voice barely audible over the pounding rain.

Thomas's eyes darkened with something primal as he pulled back slightly to look at me. He didn't ask if I was sure; he could see the answer in my face. Instead, he took my hand and led me towards his car parked a few spaces away.

As we climbed into his car, dripping wet and shivering from both cold and anticipation, a strange calm settled over me. The decision had been made—reckless or not—and now there was no turning back.

The engine roared to life, and Thomas cast a sidelong glance at me as he shifted into gear. His expression was unreadable, but charged with intensity.

We drove in silence, the sound of rain against the windshield our only accompaniment. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing with a mix of anxiety and exhilaration.

For tonight, I decided to let go of the shoulds and shouldn'ts and allow myself to feel—to live—without overthinking every consequence.

And maybe… just maybe… that was exactly what I needed right now.

I woke up, tangled in my sheets, heat radiating from my skin. My heart ached in a familiar way that made me groan. It was stupid to miss him this much, especially after months of silence. But every fiber of my being seemed to rebel against logic, clinging to the memory of Thomas.

I rolled over, staring at the ceiling. It was ridiculous. I tried to convince myself that it was just a phase, that I would eventually get over it. But no matter how many times I repeated that mantra, the hollow feeling in my chest remained.

A sharp knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I frowned, sitting up. Who the hell could that be at this hour? I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded across the room.

I reached the door and hesitated for a moment before looking through the peephole. My heart stopped.

Thomas.

I froze, gripping the doorknob so hard my knuckles turned white. What was he doing here? Why now, after all this time? A flood of emotions surged through me—anger, longing, confusion—all battling for dominance.

Taking a deep breath, I unlocked the door and opened it slowly. There he stood, drenched from the rain, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

"Thomas," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stood there, looking as conflicted as I felt.

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took a step forward, closing the gap between us. I could see the tension in his jaw, the storm in his eyes mirroring the one outside. Before I could process what was happening, he reached out and pulled me into a kiss.

It was sudden and fierce, a collision of pent-up emotions and unspoken words. His lips were cold from the night but softened against mine with a desperation that matched my own. My hands found their way to his shirt, gripping it tightly as if letting go would mean losing him all over again.

And I couldn't do it. I couldn't lose him again.