Chapter 2: Bar Lights and Bad Decisions

Mrs. Harper’s best friend, Tanya, was just as hooked on gaming. One night, during a ranked match, she insisted we all meet up in person to help her get promoted.

I took the invite and headed to a little bar downtown—only to find out Mrs. Harper and Tanya co-owned the place. That’s why they worked so late every night.

It felt surreal—a trade school nobody like me, sitting with two women who actually ran their own bar, and they listened to what I said.

Classic rock buzzed from the jukebox. The bar top was sticky with spilled beer, and Tanya was arguing with a regular about the Yankees while biting a cigarette. Mrs. Harper wrinkled her nose at the smoke, then took me to a booth in the back so we could game in peace.

She sat close—so close I could smell her perfume, sweet and dizzying.

After the game, Mrs. Harper stretched with a slow, lazy movement that outlined every curve beneath her tight clothes. I’d never seen a grown woman stretch before—every second made my heart beat faster.

I realized laziness could be a dangerous kind of charm in a woman.

I just stared, stunned. Mrs. Harper noticed. This time, she blushed, ducked her head, and fiddled with her phone—but I could tell she was as flustered as I was.

I took a chance and reached for her hand.

She flinched a little, but didn’t pull away.

We didn’t say anything. I reached out, wanting to put my arm around her shoulders.

But before I could, she leaned into me herself, snuggling against my side, still playing on her phone.

I bent my head. I could smell her hair, almost taste her lips.

I tried to kiss her. I was shaking, but she didn’t pull away.

I kissed her cheek, then her lips, softly, again and again.

She closed her eyes, her lashes trembling.

Tanya came out and saw Mrs. Harper in my arms. She froze.

She rushed over and yanked Mrs. Harper away, saying it was time to get ready for business. I saw her secretly pinch Mrs. Harper’s side.

Only then did Mrs. Harper snap out of it and hurry behind the bar.

Trying to play it cool, I ordered a beer. Tanya checked my ID, made sure I was legal, then slid it over with a suspicious look.

I didn’t have enough cash for another, but I wanted to stay and look at Mrs. Harper a little longer, so I sipped it slow, soaking in every second.

Running a bar isn’t easy. Mrs. Harper had to toast customers, always on her feet. When the place finally emptied, she came to sit by me.

She asked, “Aren’t you heading home?”

I said, “It’s the weekend. You’ve had a lot to drink. I want to walk you home.”

She laughed. I asked what was so funny, and she grinned, “You don’t even have a car. How are you gonna walk me home? You just gonna walk all the way with me?”

My face burned. I suddenly felt the gap between us.

Every other guy chasing her probably had a car. I’d be lucky just to work in a garage fixing their cars—after all, I was still studying auto repair.

I couldn’t even afford an Uber for her.

Mrs. Harper, a little tipsy, leaned back on the sofa and chuckled, “Kyle brought friends home, so I’m not going back tonight. I’ll sleep here at the bar.”

She tried to sound casual, but her eyes darted away, like she didn’t want me to see how tired she really was.

Then she pulled out a folding cot from the storeroom and started setting it up. That’s when Tanya came over, eyeing me like a hawk, and told me she’d drive me home.

I said I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay with Mrs. Harper—I was worried about her.

Tanya snapped, “Really? If you keep bugging her, I swear I’ll call someone to deal with you! You call that love? You think I don’t know what teenage boys are after?”

I almost squared up, then realized Tanya could probably bench-press me. I shrank back on the couch, cheeks burning.

But I really liked Mrs. Harper.

I didn’t get why Tanya was so harsh. I’d even helped her win her ranked match, but she still blocked me.

I was too young, too naive.

Mrs. Harper told Tanya not to scare me.

Tanya glared at us a long moment, finally sighed, and left.

Now it was just Mrs. Harper and me, alone in the empty bar.

I didn’t have a cot, so I stretched out on the sofa. We played games for a while, but it got late, and I didn’t have a blanket. I shivered from the cold.

Mrs. Harper noticed. She grabbed her quilt, came over, and sat beside me, covering us both with it.

The quilt and her—both warm.

Her hair smelled faintly of coconut shampoo and cheap whiskey. I lay there, half-frozen, half on fire.

I looked into her beautiful eyes, and her breathing sped up.

Finally, I got up the courage to kiss her, and she kissed me back.

A grown woman doesn’t need to be taught; if anything, she was gentle, teaching me.

She turned off all the lights, settled into my lap, and the world went pitch black. She whispered, “Do you just see me as another game?”

I said, “I’d never treat you like a game. I mean it.”

When I said ‘mean it,’ I felt her whole body tremble.

I couldn’t help but hug her waist and whisper, “Mrs. Harper, I love you. My heart’s pounding so hard, but even if I had to say it a thousand or ten thousand times… I’d still tell you, you’re all I think about.”

She cut me off.

“Don’t say any more. I believe you…”

That night, I became a man for real.

When I woke up in the morning, still half-asleep, Mrs. Harper was lying in my arms, staring at me quietly.

She pulled away slightly, tracing circles on my chest, then sighed like she was carrying a hundred pounds. She cupped my face and whispered, “I’ve really messed up.”

I didn’t want her to say that, so I hugged her tight.