Cameron settled onto her stool, the stem of her glass cool between her fingers. Inside, the drink shimmered a soft blush-pink, sweet and fruity, the kind that carried only the faintest bite of alcohol. It was more dessert than liquor, chosen less for effect and more to give her hands something to hold.
Her gaze drifted across the room—and locked. Blue eyes, startling in the dim light, met hers. A jolt went through her. Reis. He looked startled, as if she were the last person he expected to encounter here. His expression quickly smoothed over, and with the ease of someone used to being seen, he offered her a polite nod. Cameron returned it, measured and composed, before shifting her attention back to her drink—at least outwardly.
But her eyes betrayed her restraint, sweeping over him in a fleeting glance. Gone was the polished, put-together figure she knew from daylight meetings. His hair was mussed, strands falling in careless disarray that hinted at either neglect or deliberate abandon. The sharp precision of his usual attire was nowhere to be found; instead, he wore something looser, more casual, as though he had shed a layer of formality along with the day.
She caught herself, irritation prickling at the thought that she was scrutinizing him more than she ought to. How he chose to live, how he carried himself beyond their professional encounters, was none of her business.
Cameron drew a slow breath and reminded herself of her place. Their relationship was work. Strictly professional. Nothing more.
Cameron shifted her attention to the counter, where Katie was darting between glasses and bottles with practiced ease. She paused just long enough to jab Corey in the ribs with a grin.
"You sit there looking all useless while I'm slaving away," Katie said. "Typical."
Corey leaned back on his stool, smirking. "I'm giving you moral support. That's harder than it looks."
"Moral support?" Cameron snorted, sliding her glass closer to Katie for a refill. "Wow, you're really carrying the team, huh?"
Katie laughed, topping off Cameron's drink. "Exactly. He's more of a hazard than a help."
"Please," Corey shot back, hand to his chest. "You'd both crumble without me around to keep the place interesting."
Cameron raised an eyebrow. "Interesting isn't the word I'd use."
Katie grinned, shaking her head as she went back to work. "Honestly, you two are worse than the drunks I serve."
"Don't pretend you don't love it," Cameron teased.
Their laughter lingered until a low voice cut in from a few seats down.
"I'll have a Manhattan, stirred, with a cherry."
Cameron's gaze snapped over before she could stop herself. Reis sat at the counter, leaning back with effortless ease, as if the bar had always been his place.. Katie's playful grin faded as she busied herself with the order, leaving Cameron momentarily unguarded.
Then his eyes found hers. The polite smile he offered was small, almost courteous, but it felt sharper than it should—like he was seeing past her skin, stripping away the distance she kept between worlds.
Cameron returned the smile, brief and practiced, but unease tightened in her chest. For a fleeting second, she felt as though he recognized something he shouldn't, as if the line between Cameron and Camielle was thinner than she wanted to believe.
Cameron's fingers stilled against the glass, her expression slipping for a fraction of a second. Corey caught it. He didn't comment, not directly—just leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"You know, if you keep staring like that, people are going to think you're plotting something."
She blinked, startled, then narrowed her eyes at him. "I wasn't staring."
"Sure," he said easily, smirking. "And I'm a model student who never skips lectures."
The corner of her mouth tugged despite herself. Corey leaned back, pleased, letting the banter soften the air between them.
From a few seats away, Reis's gaze lingered, subtle but sharp, catching the shift in Cameron's mood—and the way Corey drew her back from it. He said nothing, only turned back to his drink, but the glance was enough to leave Cameron a little more aware of being seen.
Katie slid Reis's drink across the counter with an easy smile. "You've been showing up a lot more than usual these days," she said, tone light—the kind of small talk she offered every regular, though her eyes lingered a beat too long, as if she already knew he wasn't just another face."What's keeping you glued to this place all of a sudden?"
Reis gave a faint laugh, brushing the question aside with a shrug. "Maybe I just like the atmosphere." He lifted the glass, but his eyes flicked past her, subtle yet deliberate—toward Cameron. It wasn't overt, nothing anyone else might notice, but Katie caught it instantly.
Her brows lifted, though she didn't let it show for long. "Ah," she said smoothly, tilting her head as though the answer was obvious. "Well, don't get your hopes up. Cameron goes to the same college as my brother."
Reis chuckled, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "Nothing like that," he said easily, lifting his glass. "I was just curious. I tend to notice when someone unfamiliar shows up." His tone was light, but inside, he was taking in the details—The close-cropped hair gave no hint of softness, an angular set of jaw and narrow shoulders falling easily into a shape. He caught Katie's glance and raised an eyebrow subtly, as if to make clear that his interest was purely observational, not personal
Katie caught it instantly. Her smile lingered, but her eyes sharpened with the kind of knowing that came from years behind the counter. "Mm-hm," she hummed, wiping down the bar with deliberate slowness. "Curiosity can be a dangerous habit, you know."
She left it at that, keeping her tone light, casual—shielding Cameron without giving away more. If Reis was connecting dots, Katie wasn't about to hand him the missing piece.
Katie slid back over after handing off Reis's drink, smirk already in place. "So you think he swings the other way, or what? Because the way he keeps looking over here…" Her eyes flicked toward Cameron, teasing.
Cameron nearly choked on her glass. "Katie—"
"What?" Katie laughed. "I'm just saying. He looks like he's got his sights set."
Corey didn't even glance up from his drink. "Or maybe you're just imagining things again. You do love your drama."
Katie shot him a mock glare, Cameron huffed a quiet laugh, but the comment was enough to break the tension—at least on the surface.
Corey leaned back in his chair, a sly grin tugging at his lips as he watched Cameron watching the lounge. "You ever think," he started, dragging the words out just enough to be annoying, "that maybe Reis isn't here for the whiskey or the music?"
Cameron frowned, not catching on right away. "What are you getting at?"
He smirked, tilting his head. "Think about it. She's not the kind of girl you forget—bold, sharp-tongued, fierce. A woman like Camielle gets under your skin, whether you want her to or not.
Cameron shot him a sharp look, cheeks warming despite herself. "You're ridiculous."
Corey only smirked wider, clearly entertained. "Ridiculous, sure. But not wrong."
Cameron's thoughts tangled, refusing to settle. Captivated. The word pressed uncomfortably against her chest. What if Reis's interest wasn't about Camielle at all, but suspicion? What if he'd looked too closely, pieced something together? The way his gaze lingered sometimes—it felt less like admiration and more like he was trying to see through her. She forced herself to shift her attention, to focus on anything else, but her eyes kept flicking toward him
A dull thud broke the low hum of the bar. Cameron's head snapped around. Reis had slumped forward, his temple grazing the edge of the table with a muted knock. He stirred sluggishly, shoulders heavy, one hand dragging along the wood as though lifting it were an effort too great for him. He wasn't sprawled or screaming—just off-balance, unsteady.
A few patrons glanced over, murmured something to one another, and then went back to their drinks. Clearly, none of them were in a hurry to intervene.
Katie, however, was already moving. She set the rag she'd been holding aside and strode toward him, expression half-annoyed, half-amused. "For god's sake, Reis," she muttered as she steadied his shoulder. "Can't you pick a night not to make me babysit?"
She shook her head and guided him gently but firmly back into his chair, hands precise, movements practiced. Her tone carried no panic—she had clearly handled this type of situation before. Her fingers checked his posture, nudging him upright, adjusting him so he wouldn't slump again. Her voice remained light, teasing as she fussed over him like a wayward sibling, softly scolding but careful not to embarrass him in front of the small crowd of patrons.
Reis let out a low groan, shifting slightly under her guidance. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at the fatigue there, but did not attempt to argue. He looked vulnerable for a moment, a stark contrast to the composed, commanding presence he carried at work or in daylight meetings.
Katie lingered just long enough to make sure he was steady, muttering one last playful complaint before stepping back. "Next time, drink less. Or at least hit a softer table," she said, returning to the counter with the ease of someone who knew exactly how to handle him—and exactly how much to fuss.