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get up, it’s soaked completely through with tears.
    And I am more determined than ever to get out of this place.
    Whatever it takes.

Chapter Five
    The dishwasher always rattles at the end, when it turns off, like it’s choking to death before giving up. I open it up to unload the glasses. A cloud of hot steam rises out. I squint to protect my eyes, and it feels like I’m crying. Might as well be, for as desperate as I’ve become, missing Chase.  
    Jeff got these new shot glasses from the supply company this morning. They look like the ones that got broken in the bar fight. I have to dry them off with a towel or I’ll leave spots. God forbid I leave spots. My eyes feel heavy as I roll them, imagining me and Marissa making fun of Jeff.  
    I notice a little piece of broken glass at the edge of the bar. I pick it up with my fingers and throw it in the waste basket. It reminds me of when Chase pulled a shard of glass out of my hair. An ache fills me as I remember how he looked at me.  
    How I wish I’d told him to stay the other night when he came to my house, but in that moment it felt dangerous. Too many men being all alpha male. The pissing contest between Jeff and Galt was stupid. Why did Chase and I have to get stuck in the middle?
    I use a dish towel to dry off each glass. Then I put it in its place. The glass is too hot to touch. I hold it with the towel to protect my fingers. The same finger I licked the day I met Chase. Now I know what his mouth tastes like. The burn of his desire is imprinted on my lips, my waist, my neck...wherever he touched me. 
    I want that burn everywhere .
    I still don’t understand what started the fight. Why do Jeff and Galt Halloway hate each other so much? Why doesn’t Jeff want me talking to Chase? I understand that they don’t like each other, but what do Chase and I have to do with that? Too many unanswered questions. 
    I think about the bikers. I dry off a few more glasses. They aren’t as hot anymore. The towel is getting too damp. I hang it back up and get a dry one, the action automatic. When you work in a bar there are a million little actions that have to be taken to get all the jobs done. They’re boring and repetitive, but someone has to do it, right? Might as well be me. I need to keep saving for my stash to grow enough to move to Los Angeles. 
    Los Angeles.
    Chase is here . Los Angeles is there .
    Oh, no.
    I remember Chase throwing himself over me to protect me. How strong his hands felt. How he promised to take care of me. How his lips accidentally brushed against my cheek when he said it. How it made me forget about the bar fight and the people brawling all around us.
    If I leave soon, I’ll have to leave Chase behind.
    I make a funny snorting sound at the thought. I’m being ridiculous. One kiss from Chase means nothing. Nothing. It might have been my first real kiss, and it might have lit my body and soul ablaze, but I’ll bet it was Chase’s ten thousandth kiss. He’s probably been with more women than Jeff has bar glasses.
    I finish drying the final shot glass and peer at it. It looks exactly like every other glass on the rack.
    I’m just another shot glass to Chase.
    And that means it’s okay to go to Los Angeles.
    Keep telling yourself that, Allie , a nasty voice inside me says. And eventually it’ll be true .
    I go into the storeroom to look for a box of beer glasses. Jeff told me there were new beer glasses. But I don’t see them anywhere. I have to go ask him where they are.
    I don’t want to talk to him. But I have a lot of questions.  
    I want to know why the bikers came to the bar. Why there was a fight. Why Galt Halloway showed up at our house. Whether he’s likely to come back. But I can’t ask Jeff any of those things. It will cause big problems. I can’t afford that.
     I feel so stupid, so ignorant. I don’t understand what’s happening. If I had some answers, maybe I would...
    I would...what? I’d just know a bunch of details,