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I caught her at the bar an hour later, between customers.
“Have dinner with me,” I said. “A proper date. Away from here.”
Jade’s smile flickered. “Owen.”
“I mean it. After what happened in there…”
“What happened in there,” she said quietly, “happened in there.” She glanced at Dez, then back at me, and lowered her voice. “Babe, listen. That was real. I’m not saying it wasn’t. But I don’t date customers. Not ever. Seven years, and that rule’s the only reason I’m still sane.”
“I’m not just a customer.”
“You paid me a hundred quid an hour ago.” Not unkind. Just true.
I didn’t have anything to say to that.
She touched my cheek. “You can still come Fridays. I meant that. But if you ask me out again, I have to stop dancing for you, because then it gets messy, and messy is how girls in here get hurt.”
I went back the next Friday anyway. She danced for me. It was good. It was really good, actually, her hips rolling in my lap, her breath catching. But it never quite hit that spot again, and I could see her keeping it from happening, a careful half inch of distance between us, every single time.
After a month I stopped going.
Sometimes I still think about that one song. The one where she forgot it was her job.
Ending 18 of 25: Crossing the Line. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.