The place Alysa picked was busy but not too packed — dim lights, warm wood interiors, low music humming under the clink of glasses and quiet chatter. The kind of spot where people could either laugh loud or lean in close.
     Hayley sat at a high table with Alysa, one hand curled around a cold glass of wine, the other fiddling with her phone. She'd taken off her coat, loosened her hair, and even managed a little smile here and there — but the exhaustion still clung to her shoulders.
     Across from them, Jaxon leaned back in his seat, sipping from a dark beer, eyes drifting toward her every so often when she wasn't looking.
     Liam sat beside him, halfway through his second drink already. "I swear," he said, stretching his legs, "next time I say yes to something without asking, punch me."
     "No need," Jaxon muttered, smirking. "Your face when Alysa invited us was enough pain."
     Alysa grinned and raised her glass. "You're welcome."
     Hayley rolled her eyes with a soft laugh.
     Jaxon caught it, then tilted his head, elbow on the table. "See? You can smile outside of office hours."
     Hayley didn't rise to the bait right away. She took a sip of her wine, leaned her cheek on her palm, then met his eyes.
     "Don't get used to it."
     Jaxon grinned. "Too late."
     Liam groaned, "This is painful."
     But Alysa waved it off, clearly entertained. "Let them flirt in peace."
     Hayley almost choked. "We're not—!"
     Jaxon just raised his glass. "Cheers to denial."
     Alysa clinked his glass with hers, laughing. "Cheers."
     As the night wore on, the drinks flowed slower. The table got quieter. Alysa and Liam slipped into a side conversation, their voices low, shoulders leaned in toward each other.
     Hayley, meanwhile, stared down into the melting ice in her water glass, the weight of the week slowly creeping back in.
     Jaxon nudged her foot gently under the table.
     She looked up, startled.
     He didn't say anything — just met her eyes, a small, knowing look in his.
     She didn't smile this time.
     But she didn't look away either.

The table grew louder with every round.
     Liam had somehow convinced the group into playing a ridiculous question game, half-daring, half-exposing. Alysa was fully invested — laughing, teasing, tossing questions like firecrackers. Jaxon, a few beers in, was looser now, that usual sharp edge dulled just slightly. He was still watching, though. Especially one person.
     Hayley.
     She laughed more now. Her cheeks flushed. Her voice looser. Her sarcasm even sharper than usual.
     And the drinks kept coming.
     She’d already had two glasses of wine — then someone mentioned shots.
     Jaxon had passed. Alysa too. Even Liam raised an eyebrow.
     But Hayley?
     She tipped it back without hesitation.
     "Whoa, alright," Liam blinked. "Didn’t peg you as a shots girl."
     "I’m full of surprises," she smirked, licking salt from her hand and reaching for another lime.
     Jaxon leaned in a little. "You good?"
     She looked at him — something wild in her eyes, a spark not quite joy. "I’m great."
     He didn’t answer right away. Just watched her as she poured herself another.
     Maybe ease up a bit?” he said lowly, nudging her elbow. “It’s been a long week. You don’t wanna end it facedown on a bar table."
     She waved him off. "I’m fine, Jaxon. It’s Friday."
     "Right. Fridays make people invincible," he muttered, watching her take the second shot anyway.
      Alysa gave him a sympathetic glance from across the table, but didn’t say anything. Liam, sensing the energy shift, made some dumb joke about coworkers turning into wild animals off-duty. Everyone laughed. Even Hayley.
     But Jaxon didn’t.
     He leaned back, arms crossed, watching her carefully now. The slurred edge in her laughter. The way her smile stretched just a little too wide. Like she wasn’t just trying to have fun — like she was trying to drown something.

The bar was louder now, warm with that hazy Friday night buzz. Laughter echoed from the table as the drinks kept coming — Alysa had just ordered another round “for fun,” and Hayley, without hesitation, downed her second shot.
     Jaxon watched the way she slammed the glass down like it owed her something.
     "Maybe take it easy," he said casually, leaning across the table just enough for her to hear.
     Hayley shot him a look. Not sharp, but challenging. "What, you're keeping track now?"
     "Just saying," he said, lifting his hands in surrender. "It's not a race."
     She rolled her eyes and reached for the beer she hadn’t touched yet.
     Alysa grinned, bumping Hayley’s shoulder. "Let her be. Girl’s had a crazy week — she deserves to blow off some steam."
     Hayley gave a tired smile, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of her glass. "More like the week steamrolled me."
     Liam laughed, his words slightly slurred. "Honestly, just hearing about your schedule makes me want to lie down."
     Jaxon glanced across the table at Hayley again. Her laugh came late, too loud. Her smile looked off. He caught the slight twitch of her hand as she reached for the next drink — like she couldn’t quite sit still.
     He leaned in again, this time lower. "Seriously… you alright?"
     Hayley sipped from her beer and didn’t answer at first. “I’m just tired,” she finally said, eyes forward. "And it’s Friday. Let me live."
     He let it go — but the tension in his jaw didn’t.
     After a while, Alysa looked at her phone, then back at Hayley. "Okay, I’m fading. I think I’m calling it."
     "What? It’s not even midnight," Hayley said, though she didn't sound surprised.
     "I know," Alysa sighed, already slipping on her coat. "But I’m exhausted, and if I don’t leave now, I’ll end up ordering something stupid and texting my ex."
     "I’ll get us a cab," Liam said, pushing his chair back. Jaxon’s brow lifted.
     "You leaving too?"
     Liam just shrugged like it was nothing — but the quick glance he gave Jaxon said otherwise. "Yeah. You two have fun."
     Alysa kissed Hayley on the cheek. "Text me when you’re home, okay?"
     "Sure," Hayley muttered, waving her off.
     Then it was just the two of them.
     Jaxon watched her for a beat, then leaned his arms on the table. "Guess it’s just me now, keeping you from drinking the whole bar dry."
     Hayley gave a short laugh, eyes heavy as she lifted her glass again.
     But before it reached her lips, Jaxon’s hand came across the table — swift, decisive. He caught her wrist, not hard, but firm enough to stop her.
     Her smile vanished. "Seriously?" she said, voice flat.
     Jaxon didn’t flinch. He leaned in slightly, his voice low, steady. "Yeah. Seriously."
     She rolled her eyes and tugged at her arm, but he didn’t let go. "Let go."
     "You’ve had enough."
     "I can handle it."
     "Not the point," he said, eyes locked on hers. "You’re not drinking to have fun, Hayley. You’re drinking to forget."
     She stilled, just for a second.
     Something flickered across her face — too quick to name. Anger? Guilt? Shame?
     Then it was gone.
     "You don’t know what I’m doing," she muttered.
     He let out a quiet breath. "Maybe not. But I know what it looks like."
     She stared at him, lips pressed tight, chest rising with shallow breaths. The music in the bar felt distant — muffled by the weight between them.
     "Why do you care?" she asked, finally. Her voice cracked at the edges.
     That hit him. Not because he didn’t have an answer — but because she genuinely didn’t expect one.
     "Because I’ve seen that look before," he said quietly. "On people right before they burn out. And I don’t want that to be you."
     He gently loosened his grip and took the glass from her hand, setting it far from reach.
     She didn’t stop him this time.
     Hayley looked away, swallowing hard. Her fingers curled into a fist on the table.
     For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
     Then Jaxon leaned back, trying to soften the tension. "Besides… if you start dancing on the tables, I’m not carrying you out of here."
     That pulled a tired smile from her — small, reluctant, but real.
     "Deal," she said quietly.
     He smiled too, just a little. And didn’t reach for his own drink.

The door to the bar swung shut behind them, muffling the music and laughter still buzzing inside. Cool air swept over the sidewalk, and Hayley tugged her jacket tighter around her, wobbling just slightly as her boots hit the uneven pavement.
     "I’m good," she said quickly, waving one hand and turning toward the street.
     Jaxon followed. "Yeah, and I’m still walking you home."
     She stopped short, spinning around to face him. "No, you’re not."
     Jaxon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sharpness in her voice. "I’m not letting you stumble home alone at midnight after downing that many shots."
     "I said I’m fine."
     "And I said I don’t care."
     She let out a frustrated breath and turned away again. "Why do you always have to—"
     She took one step, misjudged the curb, and her ankle rolled. Jaxon was there in an instant, steadying her with a hand around her elbow before she could fall.
     "See?" he muttered, more gently this time. "This is what I mean."
     Hayley swore under her breath and pulled her arm away again. "I didn’t ask for your help."
     "I know," he said, voice low. "That doesn’t mean I’m not giving it."
     She didn’t answer this time. Just started walking again, slower now. Jaxon kept beside her, silent but steady.
     "I live just a few blocks away," she mumbled eventually, almost like a peace offering.
     "Good," he said. "Less time for you to argue with me."
     That got a small breath of a laugh from her — or maybe just a scoff — but she didn’t push him away again.
     They walked the rest of the way without speaking. Her steps were unsteady, but her silence more fragile than angry now.
     When they reached her building, she dug for her keys, swaying a little. Jaxon didn’t say anything — just waited beside her.
     She finally managed to get the door open, then paused in the doorway, half-turned toward him.
     He paused at the door. "Want me to walk you up?"
     Hayley shook her head firmly. "No, I’m fine."
     She started inside, but almost immediately stumbled, catching herself on the wall. Her legs wobbled as she tried to take the first step up the staircase—and failed.
     Without hesitation, Jaxon stepped forward and closed the door softly behind them.
     "What are you doing?" Hayley asked, turning toward him, surprise and fatigue mingling in her voice.
     He didn’t say a word. Before she could protest, he lifted her effortlessly off the floor. Hayley tried to resist for a moment, but her limbs felt heavy and her will weaker than usual. She gave in.
     Carrying her, Jaxon climbed the stairs and gently set her down in her bedroom. The room was cozy and neat, soft lamplight casting warm shadows on the walls.
     He knelt to take off her shoes and coat, his hands careful and steady. Hayley’s eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion pulling at her like a tide.
     He covered her with the quilt, tucking it gently around her.
     She was almost asleep, breathing slow and even—until, shifting slightly, she nearly toppled forward.
     Jaxon caught her just in time. Their faces were inches apart—her breath warm against his skin, so close yet so far.
     He blinked, heart hammering, then backed away quickly, breaking the spell.
     "Get comfortable," he murmured softly.
     He stood, collected her shoes and coat, and carried them downstairs. At the door, he placed them neatly by the entrance.
     He grabbed her keys from the counter, locked the door behind him, and slipped the keys into her mailbox slot.
     Standing there in the quiet hallway, he breathed in deep, his thoughts lingering on Hayley, on the night, on what was and what could be.