All Chapters of After Hours: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The bar smelled like spilled beer, stale cigarettes, and broken promises.Alli wiped down the counter, though it didn’t need it. The rag moved in circles out of habit more than necessity, a poor distraction from the man who’d just walked in. Johnny.Same stool. Same black shirt clinging to his arms. Same eyes that burned when they landed on her.He wasn’t like the rest of the regulars. He didn’t stumble in drunk, didn’t try to sweet talk her for a free pour. Johnny sat in silence. Smoldering. Watching. And when he spoke? He made it sound like a dare.Alli had just turned eighteen. A fresh graduate with big dreams and no direction, stuck pouring cheap drinks at a bar that didn’t even have a name worth remembering. Locals called it “The Hollow,” fitting for a place where people came to forget.“Alli,” her boss barked from the back, “restock that well before close.”“On it,” she called, tossing the rag aside and ducking behind the bar.When she popped back up, Johnny was waiting, perched

He felt her before she walked in.Layla always announced herself without saying a word. The sharp scent of designer perfume, the heavy echo of heels on the warped bar floor, the tension that crept into his shoulders like a reflex he couldn’t shake. She had a presence, sure. But tonight? It didn’t hit the same.Because he was already watching her.Alli.She moved behind the bar with that kind of soft focus he couldn’t stop looking at. That innocent, effortless grace that pissed him off almost as much as it pulled him in. Barely legal. Barely aware of the kind of men who looked at her like he did.He wasn’t the kind of guy sweet girls were supposed to be near.And yet, there she was. Pouring drinks with shaky hands and pretending not to feel his eyes on her.She was too young. Too damn clean. And if he had a shred of decency left, he’d stop coming here just to see if she’d smile at him.But Johnny had long since stopped pretending to be decent.The stool beneath him creaked as he leaned

The first time Alli saw Johnny, it was a slow Friday night in early spring. The bar had been quieter than usual, the jukebox playing some twangy old heartbreak song while a few old timers nursed beers and swapped fishing lies like religion. She’d only been working at The Hollow for two weeks—just long enough to stop flinching every time someone slapped a tip on the counter a little too hard.It was supposed to be a simple job. Something for weekends. Something to get her out of the house after graduation without having to think too hard about her future, or how empty everything had felt since the cap and gown came off and everyone else started making plans.She hadn't expected him.He’d walked in like he owned the place. Confident but quiet. A man who didn’t have to be loud to be noticed. Broad shoulders, dark shirt tight against his chest, his jeans stained with grease like he’d come straight from under a car and didn’t bother changing. A mechanic, she’d learn later. Ran his own shop

Johnny didn’t plan on walking into The Hollow again so soon—not after the night he’d just had.But that’s where he ended up.Again.The guilt clung to his skin thicker than sweat. It had followed him all day in the garage too, through every oil change and busted radiator, through the clink of wrenches and the smell of grease that usually grounded him. But not today. Not with the image of Alli burned into his brain and the feel of Layla still lingering on his hands like ash he couldn’t scrub clean.He hated himself for that.Not because of what happened—but because he didn’t stop it. Because part of him had wanted the familiarity, even if it came with sharp edges and morning-after silence. But it wasn’t what he needed.What he needed was... well, that was the problem.The second he walked into the bar and saw her behind the counter, everything he didn’t want to admit came rushing up all over again.Alli.Ponytail. No makeup. That same black bar tee that clung to her in all the right pl

Sunday nights were supposed to be slow.The bar emptied early. Locals retreated home to rest their livers and pretend they weren’t going to be right back in here by Friday. Even the jukebox seemed to play softer, like it knew not to press its luck on the last night of the week.For Alli, Sunday was survival mode. She could already feel Monday breathing down her neck. Her feet were sore. Her hair was a mess of flyaways she didn’t care to tame. She wanted a shower, sleep, and not to think about him.But then he showed up.Of course he did.Same stool. Same drink. Same silence that said more than most people could say with a paragraph.Johnny.He didn’t wave or smile. Just sat there, drink in hand, like he hadn’t left her breathless with a look the last time they talked. Like he hadn’t walked out of this bar with another woman two nights ago.Layla.God, that still hurt.And she didn’t even know why.They weren’t dating.They weren’t together.Hell, she didn’t even have his number. He ha