Bleeding Heart Ch 01 2

The first weekend of the fall semester was always chaotic. Campus had roared back to life, students flooding in after months apart, eager to shake off the weight of summer jobs, internships, or whatever had kept them occupied.

At The Drunken Goat, the air buzzed with energy--music pulsed through the dimly lit bar, laughter and conversation overlapping as groups of friends reunited over drinks.

At the bar, three friends stood waiting for the bartender to take their order, their eyes drifting over familiar and unfamiliar faces, scanning for anyone who caught their interest.

It had been too long since all three had managed a night out together, and they were determined to make it count--to have fun, let loose, and maybe even find someone worth getting into trouble with.

That's when they noticed him.

A young-looking guy, moving with deliberate ease, his steps unhurried, his gaze locked onto them with a knowing smirk. A creep, a drunk, a cocky upperclassman--or all of the above?

The redhead groaned under her breath.

This should be good.

He was dressed in a crisp white button-down, blue jeans, and tan shoes--a clean-cut look that could have belonged to anyone, yet there was something distinct about the way he wore it.

The three of them braced themselves. Which one of them was he about to hit on?

He stopped in front of them, his gaze flicking across the trio, unreadable, before settling into a familiar grin.

"Hi, gorgeous. I believe you have something for me to wet my lips with."

The reaction was instant. All three rolled their eyes in unison, and the redhead--never one to hold back--spoke first.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I can speak for all of us when I say we are not interested."

The guy hesitated--just for a fraction of a second, but long enough for them to notice.

Before he could respond, another voice cut in.

"Oh, honey, I don't think you can hold your breath long enough to find out."

The three girls turned just as Steph, the owner of The Drunken Goat, stepped behind the bar, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on her face.

Lucky's grin widened.

"I don't know about that," he said, stepping forward--right between the redhead and her friend, making space for himself at the bar. "I can think of worse ways of dying, Steph."

He reached across, fingers brushing lightly against one of the girls as he did. "Excuse me."

It wasn't intentional--he wasn't ignoring them to be rude. They just weren't the reason he was here.

Steph gave him a long, unimpressed look before grabbing a drink from beneath the bar and setting it down in front of him. The three girls exchanged a glance.

A real glass. Not one of the flimsy plastic cups the rest of the crowd was being handed.

Interesting.

Lucky reached for the drink, twisting his fingers slightly, revealing a folded twenty-dollar bill between them.

Steph rolled her eyes but took the bill with her left hand, dropping it into the tip jar behind her, then handed him his drink with her right.

"You're incorrigible, Lucky, you know that?" she muttered. "Where are all the Tri-Delts you walked in with? Shouldn't you be directing this nonsense at one of them?"

Lucky took a slow sip, then shrugged. "C'mon, Steph. You know they only remember me when they need something--getting in without waiting in line, not paying for themselves. All very transactional."

His smirk lingered, his voice dropping just enough to be intimate.

"Besides, the heart wants what the heart wants. And what I want... is a dalliance with you."

He actually had the audacity to wink.

Steph exhaled sharply, barely suppressing a scoff.

This idiot.

Of all the people to pull this act on, he had to pick her--his boss--in the middle of a packed bar.

"You'll get a dalliance with my foot if you keep this up, Lucky." Her tone was dry.

Lucky held up his hands in mock surrender, though the glint in his eyes never faded.

Steph didn't truly mind. If anything, she had a soft spot for him--had since he first walked through the doors of The Drunken Goat over a year ago.

But there had to be a line.

Letting him get away with too much would set a precedent--and she had no patience for drunk college boys who assumed every bartender wanted to flirt back.

Lucky must have sensed the shift, because his shoulders dropped slightly, his smirk fading just a bit.

"I'm sorry, Steph. Didn't mean to cross any lines. I'll go check on the DJ, see if we're all set for the opening act."

Steph's eyes softened, guilt creeping in just a little.

"Unless--" he added, tilting his head mischievously, "--you'll be in the bathroom when I go there to check on things?"

The ice cube flew past his head before he even finished his sentence.

He dodged it, laughing as he ducked and moved away, disappearing toward the DJ booth.

The redhead, who had been watching the exchange with interest, shook her head and turned back to Steph.

"He seems like a handful."

Steph sighed, her gaze lingering on the space Lucky had just occupied.

"Oh, you have no idea."

Steph turned her attention to the girls in front of her.

"I know you two brats, but you're new," she said, her gaze landing on the redhead.

"And you don't look like a freshman."

The girl barely had time to respond before Noelle--radiating the kind of warmth that could brighten even the darkest corners of a room--piped up from the middle.

"Ha, we missed you too, Steph! This is Anna. She transferred this year from a school in our hometown and is joining us as a junior at uni. We actually went to high school together."

Anna extended her hand with an easy smile.

"Nice to meet you. I love this place, by the way. Noelle and Kira haven't shut up about how amazing and fun it is since I got accepted."

"That's because it's literally one of the best places off-campus," Kira chimed in, flicking her dark hair over one shoulder.

"The music and vibes are just so much better than those other places around town. And the staff don't letch at you, either."

Steph smirked, leaning a hip against the bar.

"And the fact that we're one of the only places that let underage kids in wouldn't have anything to do with your love for us, would it, girls?"

Noelle and Kira gasped in mock offense, placing hands over their hearts as Anna laughed--a bright, genuine sound that made it clear she was already warming up to the place.

Moments later, they ordered their drinks. Non-alcoholic, of course.

That was a technicality easily remedied with a trip to the bathroom, where the flasks of vodka hidden in each of their purses would ensure the night played out exactly as planned.

* * *

From across the room, Anna's laugh cut through the room, bright and full of something unfiltered--joy, amusement, maybe even a little surprise.

Lucky glanced back toward the bar, only half-listening as the DJ rattled off last-minute details. The space had filled up exponentially since he last looked, making it harder to pick out specific voices, but the sound had reached him all the same.

That was new.

His focus had been on Steph, as it often was when he first walked in, but now his gaze caught on the three girls standing together, their drinks in hand as they moved effortlessly through the shifting crowd.

They stood out.

Not in an obvious, attention-seeking way, but in a way that made it hard not to notice them once you did. They fit together effortlessly--different, but complementary.

Lucky's eyes first landed on the one in the middle, the blonde--easily the most animated of the trio.

She spoke with her whole body, her hands moving as she laughed, her green eyes bright with a kind of warmth that felt contagious.

Noelle.

He recognized her.

She was the kind of girl who made fun feel effortless, the kind who made people gravitate toward her just to soak up her energy.

Everything about her was sun-soaked--blonde waves that tumbled over her shoulders, lightly tanned skin, and the kind of smile that made people feel at ease.

At 5'4", she wasn't the tallest, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in presence. Curvaceous and fit, the kind of balance that made it hard to tell whether she spent more time in a gym or at pool parties. Probably both.

But more than that--she was kind.

The type of person who made space for others, who had a way of making you feel welcomed, seen, and important, even if you'd just met her.

The brunette at her side, Kira, was an entirely different kind of striking.

Where Noelle was golden-hour energy, Kira was moonlight--cool, understated, and entirely unbothered.

Her jet-black wavy hair framed sharp, feminine features, and even as she leaned against the bar, there was something almost deliberate about her stillness.

Like she knew people were looking and simply didn't care.

She had the kind of face that belonged on a magazine cover one day and in the middle of an indie music video the next--brown eyes that gave nothing away, a sharp jawline softened only by the occasional curve of her lips.

Then, there was the redhead.

His gaze lingered on her longer.

Unlike the other two, she was new.

He hadn't seen her before--not with Noelle, not around campus, not in any of the usual spots.

And with a look like that, he would have remembered.

* * *

Once the lights dimmed and DJ Katharsis took the stage, The Drunken Goat was packed to the brim once again.

After a summer of catering only to locals and the small population of summer school students, the bar was finally alive in the way Lucky had missed.

God, he had missed this place.

The internship had seemed like a good idea at first. It gave him an excuse not to go home for the summer, a way to save up for the upcoming year, and a taste of the so-called

real world

.

But after months of mind-numbing conference calls, endless discussions about corporate synergy and efficiency metrics, and watching people spend more time scheduling meetings than actually working, he knew one thing for sure--he never wanted to end up in an MNC.

Too much talking, not enough doing.

Standing in the corner, he sipped his spiced coconut water on ice, the condensation cool against his fingers. Being underage and on the clock meant an actual drink was out of the question, but at least this gave him something to hold while he surveyed the crowd.

Nothing too messy yet.

But it was still half an hour to midnight--plenty of time for people to drink more, make regrettable decisions, and for him to end up caught between two guys throwing punches over something neither of them would remember in the morning.

Again.

His eyes drifted toward the bar, where the crowd was starting to press in tighter by the minute.

Time to check in with Josh at the door. Capacity was always kept just below the recommended limit--both for fire safety regulations and to prevent the kind of overcrowding that turned fun nights into absolute chaos.

As Lucky weaved through the sea of bodies, he caught sight of Josh standing at the entrance, the line held up as he spoke to someone.

Coming around, he spotted Steph.

That explained it.

Even without hearing the conversation, Lucky could already guess why she was here.

If Steph had personally stepped away from the bar, it meant she was confirming what they all already knew--the place was nearing its limit for the night.

She was wearing one of her favorites tonight--a red and black flannel layered over a black crop top, just short enough to reveal the hint of a tattoo on her midriff. Tight black jeans and a pair of Converse completed the look.

It never failed to amuse him how someone so small could command so much space.

At 5'2", Steph could easily be mistaken for a freshman right up until the moment she opened her mouth.

Then, there was no mistaking who was in charge.

Her flawless skin, inherited from her East Asian genes, gave nothing away, though her sharp eyes flicked to him the moment he got within earshot.

"Actually," she said, as if continuing a conversation only she had been having, "why don't you go ahead and cover the pool table section? I overheard a couple of frat boys making some dumb bets that will definitely result in broken chairs if left unsupervised."

Josh sighed, already stepping away from the door.

Then, just as a wicked smile curled at the edges of her lips, she added, "Lucky can run the door until then."

Josh turned just in time to see the look of sheer misery on Lucky's face before barking out a laugh.

"What'd you do to piss her off now? Wait, no, don't tell me--I don't even wanna know." He jerked his thumb toward the still-growing line outside.

"You have fun with this."

Then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd before Lucky could argue.

Lucky opened his mouth to protest--then shut it just as fast, knowing full well this was a lost battle.

He tried a different approach, tilting his head just slightly, eyes pleading.

Steph didn't even blink.

"No, no, no. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time." Her tone was mocking, but the order was very real.

"You know the drill. Get to it, young man."

Then she was gone too, leaving zero room for negotiation.

Lucky exhaled sharply through his nose.

Young man.

Yeah, he was in deep shit.

The last time she had called him that, he had spent two hours cleaning the bathrooms after some idiot had thrown up in a sink instead of a toilet.

And as much as he tried to replay the night in his head, he couldn't figure out what he'd done differently this time.

Lucky had an uncanny ability to be incredibly observant in some situations and entirely oblivious in others.

Sometimes, those two things happened at the exact same time. That's usually when he got into trouble.

Resigned to his fate, he dropped onto the stool Josh had vacated, pulling the small torch they used to check ID holograms in the dark from the hook nearby.

"Hi, Lucky. Long time, no see."

The moment he heard the voice, he didn't even have to look up.

It was going to be a long night.

Standing in front of him was Valeria Martinez--Social Chair of Delta Gamma, fellow junior, and the kind of woman who could turn any room into her stage.

The dress she wore wasn't just clothing; it was a statement, molded to her body as if it had been crafted with only her in mind.

Deep red, bold, unmistakable--the kind of color you didn't wear unless you were completely at ease with the attention it drew.

Valeria wasn't just used to being noticed--she expected it, carried it with an ease that turned admiration into an afterthought.

The heels gave her just enough height that, for once, she was eye level with Lucky, with him perched on the tall stool.

Her makeup was flawless, emphasizing the rich warmth of her eyes and the full curve of her lips--two of her best features.

But the longer he looked at her, the more he realised--all of her features were her best features.

Lucky knew she was a trained dancer--he had seen her at the annual Dance Department showcase both freshman and sophomore year.

It had been impossible not to watch. She didn't just move--she flowed, her body an extension of the rhythm, every motion measured yet effortless.

And it showed.

The years of movement, of discipline, were etched into her frame--the graceful strength in her arms, the sculpted definition of her legs, the poised curve of her waist.

Every step, every shift of her weight, felt deliberate--like she was never standing still but always mid-motion, waiting for the music to start.

And it wasn't just on stage.

Valeria was the life of every party she walked into.

If she was there, the music always seemed louder, the energy a little more charged. She wasn't just popular--she was magnetic.

It made sense that she was now Social Chair for one of the biggest sororities on campus--no one owned a room quite like she did.

Lucky had crossed paths with her plenty of times before.

She was everywhere--on campus, in student organizations, at fundraisers, Greek events, leadership panels. Always charming, always lighting up whatever space she stepped into.

And yet, it had never turned into anything more. Partly because Lucky had never found the nerve to ask her out, and partly because she was never alone. She always had a couple of her sorority sisters orbiting around her, a presence that made approaching her feel more like stepping onto a stage than striking up a conversation.

Like right now.

"Valeria, it's so nice to see you!"

Lucky forced himself to sound casual, trying--and failing--not to let too much enthusiasm slip into his voice.

He stepped forward, instinctively going in for a hug--

--and immediately regretted it.

She smelled divine.

Felt even better.

Even though it was barely a second, just a brush of contact before he sat back down, his pulse picked up a fraction.

Keep it together, man.

Hoping the dim lighting did him a favor, he shook off the warmth creeping up his neck and flashed a grin.

"I would say you look stunning, but you've probably already heard that a hundred times tonight."

Then, with a playful tilt of his head, his gaze flicked past her to the sisters standing behind her--none of whom he knew.

"Each one of you, for that matter. My god."

He got a mixed bag of reactions from behind Valeria--ranging from a warm smile to an uncomfortable, tight-lipped nod.

Oof. Tough crowd.

This wasn't going to be fun.

He was already cursing Steph for making him do this. Everyone on the staff knew that Lucky was damn near incapable of saying no. To anyone, really.

It was a problem most of the time.

He was just as nice to the homeless man by the lake as he was to his closest friends on campus--which, while admirable in theory, also made him an easy target.

Which was precisely why door duty was the ultimate punishment for him--one that Steph had definitely figured out over time.

And yet, as he sat there, wracking his brain, he still couldn't piece together what exactly he'd done to deserve this tonight.

This wasn't the first time he and Steph had flirted like that. It had been an ongoing thing for a while now--the god-awful pickup lines were part of the game.

So what the hell had he missed?

Before he could spiral any further, an irate voice snapped him out of his brooding.

"Val, let's just go. I told you they closed the entry, and we missed it."

Lucky blinked back into focus, just in time to see a petite brunette in a too-tight dress half-turn toward the exit.

"Christy and the others just headed over to The Beer Garden. If we leave now, we can probably get a table with them."

Valeria turned to her, making a small wait-a-second gesture, her expression unreadable to Lucky.

Then, she turned back to him--and smiled.

That smile.

Dazzling. Disarming. The kind of smile that could make a man forget his own name if he wasn't careful.

"Lucky, are you really not going to let us in?"

Her voice was light, playful, like she already knew the answer and was just waiting for him to arrive at it.

"Surely, you can make an exception? I've seen handsome bouncers do it all the time."

She had stepped closer as she spoke, her right hand grazing his elbow--just barely--but enough to send a ripple of heat up his arm and down his spine.

Lucky had never hated his job more than he did at that moment.

Steph was going to die for this.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, Valeria. My hands are tied."

His voice was steady, but it didn't feel that way.

"If it were up to me, I'd let all of you in, but the boss's orders are final. Gotta stay under capacity or we're screwed if the cops make their rounds."