The rain was coming down hard, turning the alley behind the bar into a muddy mess.
I stood under the small metal roof of the back door, shivering. My school uniform was soaked. The white shirt was see-through in places, and my pigtails were dripping water down my back. I knew I looked small and a little bit pathetic. But I liked it that way.
I didn't knock. I just waited. I knew Vance would be back there eventually to toss out the trash or have a smoke.
A few minutes later, the heavy door groaned open. Vance stood there in the doorway. He was a big man, broad across the shoulders, wearing a black t-shirt that had seen better days. He smelled like tobacco and the wood polish he used on the bar.
He saw me and stopped. He didn't look surprised. He never really looked surprised by anything I did. He just took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out into the rain.
"You're soaking wet, kid," Vance said. His voice was deep and scratchy.
"I know," I whispered, and looked down at my shoes. They were covered in mud. "I didn't have an umbrella."
Vance stepped back, holding the door open for me. "Get in here before you catch a cold. You're making a puddle on my floor."
I followed him inside. The back room of the bar was dim and warm. It felt safe. Vance walked over to a stack of clean towels he kept for the kitchen. He grabbed a big one and tossed it at me.
"Dry off," he said. He sat down on a crate and watched me.
Blythe started rubbing the towel over my hair, slowly, making sure he was watching. "Are you mad I just showed up?"
He shrugged. "I'm used to it by now. You're like a stray cat, Blythe. You show up when you're hungry or cold."
"I'm not a cat," I said, looking at him through my messy hair. "I'm a person. I'm your person."
Vance didn't say anything to that. He just leaned forward and took the towel from my hands. He started drying my hair for me, he wasn't gentle, but he wasn't rough either. His hands were huge and warm.
Every time his fingers brushed against my neck, I felt a little spark. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes. I loved how big he was compared to me. It made me feel like I didn't have to worry about anything.
"You're a nuisance," Vance muttered, but he didn't stop. He moved the towel down to dry my arms. "Why aren't you at home? Your parents are probably looking for you."
"They don't care," Blythe said. It was the truth. "No one cares where I am except you."
Vance stopped moving. He looked at me for a long second. His face stoic, like it was carved out of stone, but his eyes softened just a little bit. He reached out and tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear.
"I have work to do, Blythe," he said. "I can't sit here and play house with you all night."
"I can help," I said quickly, and grabbed his wrist. My hand looked tiny against his skin. "I can clean the glasses. I can sweep. Just let me stay. Please? I'll be good. I'll do whatever you tell me to do."
Vance sighed. He looked tired, but he didn't push me away. He stood up and pulled me to my feet.
"Go upstairs and put on one of my shirts," he said. "Your uniform is a mess. I'll bring you some food in a minute. Then you're going to sit in the corner and stay out of the way. Deal?"
I nodded fast. A small, shy smile touched my lips. "Deal."
As I headed for the stairs, I felt his eyes on me. I knew he wasn't supposed to like having me around. I knew it was wrong. But as I climbed the stairs to his apartment, all I could think about was the weight of his hand on my head and the way he called me a nuisance. It made me feel like I finally had a place to go.