Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)
♫ Summary: Eddie asked you on a date. Maybe. Possibly. But you definitely accepted. (5.6k words)
♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, mentions of sex, Reader wears a miniskirt, drinking, tipsiness, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)
♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult
chapter ten: this foolish lover's game
“I’m telling you: it’s a date.”
Nora flicked through the items on the clearance rack, searching for something in your size. She pulled out a floral shirt, wrinkled her nose, and promptly put it back.
“It’s 1993. A guy and a girl can hang out without it being something romantic,” you retorted, trying to ignore the fuzziness that filled your head at the potential classification of your upcoming night out with Eddie as a ‘date.’
“Very true. But that’s not the case here.” Nora sighed at the limited clothing choices and at your stubbornness. She stalked over to a rack of regularly-priced skirts, evidently on a mission. “And you know it, too, which is why you asked me to help you choose a new outfit.”
You had done that, though you definitely regretted it now. It had been so long since you’d actually gone out with friends that you really did need new clothes, but you had no idea where to start.
Enter Nora: best friend extraordinaire. She was just as great at finding clothes that flatter your figure as she was at being a study buddy. Her opinion mattered to you; it was necessary, especially considering the way you currently teemed with self-doubt.
She plucked a denim miniskirt from the lineup and held it against your waist. “Go try this on,” she said. You reached for the price tag, almost certain that it was out of budget, but she clamped her hand over yours. “My treat. Now, go.”
There was no arguing with her, not while she was shooing you into the dressing room. She clasped your shoulders as she steered you towards a curtain, yanked it open, and shoved you inside. “I’ll wait here,” she said.
You closed the curtain once again, unbuttoning your shorts and letting them fall to the thin carpet below you.
The skirt hung on its hanger, buttons all along the front, and it was impossible not to imagine Eddie being the one undoing them. His nimble fingers would dance across the seam as he positioned himself between your legs. You could practically feel his hands as they crept further upwards towards that dangerously sensitive part of you—
“Can we stop by the food court when you’re done? I’m dying for one of those cinnamon pretzels.”
The sound of Nora’s voice instantly cooled your heating skin. “Y-Yeah, sure,” you stammered.
Focus on that, you silently reprimanded yourself. Focus on Auntie Anne’s or Orange Julius or Panda Express—not Eddie tracing his tongue along your inner thighs.
You stepped into the skirt, warding off any lingering Eddie-related thoughts. Monday night would be like hanging out with Nora or Ben. There was no need to worry about your hair, or your clothes, or your makeup. Eddie was a friend, and only a friend, despite what absurdities your other friends planted in your head.
With the last button fastened, you allowed yourself to glance at your reflection in the mirror. The denim hugged your curves delicately, providing just a hint of what laid beneath without giving too much away. It looked odd paired with the old t-shirt you’d thrown on this morning, but the right top would make a world of difference.
Nora clapped her hands together the moment you opened the curtain. Her brown eyes lit up, and a soft squeal of excitement emanated from her throat.
“You’re gonna have Eddie eating out the palm of your hand,” she declared, reaching out to give you a little spin.
You gently pulled away from her as though it would offset the fluttering low in your stomach. “I told you, it’s—”
“Yeah, I know. Just two friends going to the bar, pretending they don’t wanna bone each other.” Nora rolled her eyes, already sick of the will they-won’t they song-and-dance.
You ducked back into the fitting room to change out of the skirt. “He doesn’t wanna bone me.”
“But you wanna bone him?”
It came out as a question, but you knew she meant as a statement.
“First of all, stop saying ‘bone.’” You hissed, tugging your shorts back over your legs. “Second, Eddie and I are friends, and he’s taking me out for graduation. End of story.”
Nora’s sigh was audible from the other side of the curtain. “Not ‘end of story.’ You didn’t answer my question. Do you wanna b—have sex with Eddie?”
Your hesitation was enough of an answer for her, and though you couldn’t see her face, you were certain she was grinning when she announced, “I knew it!”
“It’s not like that,” you protested. The fitting room was suddenly far too crowded and depleted of oxygen despite you being its only occupant. You threaded the teeth into your shorts zipper and grabbed the skirt, now heavy in your hand. “Yeah, he’s pretty cute, but—”
“But nothing. C’mon, just admit it: you like Eddie.” You could detect a hint of exasperation in her tone. Frustration, even, or confusion as to why you continually denied yourself life’s small pleasures.
You couldn’t answer that, either.
Protest died with the subtle twitch of your lips that gave away the truth. You hated your tells, the ones that swiftly uncovered the feelings you worked diligently to stifle. And you knew that if Nora kept pressing you about this crush, you would eventually break down and divulge it all.
Not just your burgeoning romantic feelings towards Eddie. Not the way you told bad jokes just to see his lopsided smile and the nose crinkle that often accompanied it. Not the multiple occasions when you caught yourself staring at the muscles in his arms and ached to kiss right along the hardened edge of his biceps.
Once you said those thoughts out loud, gave them the weight of spoken words, they became real. Able to hurt you when he inevitably didn’t reciprocate them.
And that terrified you.
“You have a big ol’ crush on him,” Nora continued, “and he has one on you.”
“He doesn’t have a crush on me,” you mumbled, purposely averting your gaze from hers.
Through peripheral vision, you could see her raise one brow. “Says who?”
Says the song lyrics about his ex-girlfriend. But that was too much to explain, so you slapped on a tight smile and shook the thought away. “Never mind. Let’s just pay for this.”
Nora swiped her credit card with an ease that only comes with the luxury of not having to worry about paying the water bill. She never had to dip into her own savings to keep the lights on. Buying her friend a miniskirt for a maybe-date wasn’t going to affect her grocery budget.
“I have the perfect pair of Docs to go with this. You can borrow them,” she said, pointedly adding “for your date.” She was either oblivious or didn’t care that the cashier was eavesdropping on your conversation.
“Not a date.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Nora plucked the bagged skirt from the cashier, flashed her a grateful smile, and shoved it in your direction. “Just answer one question for me—are you gonna wear lace panties underneath this, or cotton?”
When you once again failed to look at her, her grin widened.
“That’s what I thought.”
On Monday evening, you found yourself poised in front of the mirror, still fogged from your shower. The inky blue sky leaked into your room through the time-worn blinds, the sun almost fully faded into nighttime, which meant that Eddie would be knocking on your door at any moment.
The hem of your black fitted t-shirt met the waist of your skirt, the slightest gap between the two fabrics. It wasn’t scandalous by any stretch of the imagination, but it still conveyed one message: you wanted Eddie to look at you. Wanted him to notice your soft skin the way you noticed his flexing muscles, with awe and more lust than you cared to admit.
Did it all reek of desperation? What if Eddie was wearing the sweatpants he’d donned to remove the wallpaper? Just the possibility of him looking at your own outfit, at the effort you put into your appearance, and realizing you’d interpreted a friendly gesture as a date had you cringing.
No, this was a bad idea. You had to back out, now. Claim that you weren’t feeling well, maybe even take some ibuprofen in front of him, and promise a raincheck. You did feel the familiar throbbing that accompanied a tension headache, so it wasn’t a total lie—
Knock knock.
Sweat overrode the antiperspirant you’d lathered on, flooding you with a nervous heat. You frantically wiped your slick palms on the bed sheet like a cat at its scratching post and opened the door.
Eddie's eyes widened and his tongue brushed over his lower lip. There was no hiding the way his gaze dropped to your exposed thighs, drinking in every ounce of visible skin as though it was the only sustenance he’d ever need. His stare was hungry, if only for a moment, before his words broke the trance.
“You look…good. Pretty.” He swallowed thickly and forced himself to meet your eyes. “Sorry…just not used to seeing you all dressed up.”
Pretty. Eddie Munson thought you were pretty. The notion sent serotonin surging through you, a soft giggle passing through your lips. It was embarrassing, this schoolgirl crush, the way a simple word from him rendered you pathetically speechless.
A barrage of compliments perched themselves on your tongue, waiting to be untethered. He looked good, too; beyond that, he looked handsome. His cream colored shirt was baggy around his torso but clung to his biceps, drawing your attention to the vein that ran up his forearm.
You willed yourself to say something, anything, to reciprocate his kind words.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, mirroring your nervous energy as he gently rocked from the heel to the toe of his Reeboks. “We should get going,” he said.
Opportunity slipped from your grasp; anything you said now would seem like pity. Your only response was a nod as you locked the door and started towards the lobby.
Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.
Mom stood behind the desk, flipping through the check-in sheets with the cap end of a pen clenched between her teeth. She looked up, blinking in rapid succession when she saw you and Eddie approaching. You weren’t sure what surprised her more: you going out, or the man accompanying you.
“Well, don’t you two look nice!” She grinned, though the smile didn’t quite reach her tired eyes. “What’s the occasion?”
“Just getting a drink,” you said as casually as you could. “Celebrating my—the wallpaper.” It was a lame finish, one that Mom didn’t quite believe, but she lacked the energy to push further.
Guilt panged in your chest, not just at the lie, but because part of you felt like you were taking advantage of her exhaustion. You couldn’t tell her the real reason for the celebration; bile rose in your throat at the thought. Instead, you smiled and promised to be home before the start of your shift.
“I’ll make sure she behaves,” Eddie added with a mischievous edge, not sexual in nature but still had your stomach doing somersaults. “I know she can be quite the troublemaker.”
Mom laughed at this, so pure and genuine that you were half-tempted to ask Eddie if you could stay here and talk with her all night. Maybe he could break the news to her, since they seemed to get on well enough.
You felt her watch as Eddie opened the door for you and gave the tiniest bow to let you pass, though you didn’t dare look back at her. Not because she wouldn’t approve—just the opposite. Looking at your mother would confirm what you already knew deep down: she’d be beaming at the sight of you going on a date.
If that’s what this was.
Eddie shuffled to walk right by your side, sneakers scuffing against the broken pavement. A flicker of hope ignited within you that he would do something to confirm that this was, in fact, a romantic endeavor and not just two friends getting a drink. Perhaps an arm slung over your shoulder or a hand laced with yours.
There was only the gentle brush of his fingers against yours, knuckles grazing one another as they nearly slotted together. It was taunting, the way they could be a perfect fit if given the chance.
You almost went for it, almost grabbed hold of his hand yourself, but fear had you in its own grasp. Even if the benefit outweighed the risk, you couldn’t stop picturing him tugging his hand away from yours in a humiliating show of rejection.
“You okay? You’re not, like, mad at me again, are you?” Concern creased Eddie’s brows, and your heavy heart realized that the last time you were this quiet around him was after the argument.
“Not at all. Sorry.” You shot him a reassuring smile. “Just lost in my own thoughts.” You sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t ask you to elaborate on those thoughts.
Luckily, he just tilted his head towards you, his eyes taking on an even more doe-like quality than usual. “That’s the problem with you smart people: you’re always thinking too much.”
You laughed as you nudged him, your right shoulder colliding with his left. He stumbled slightly, quickly catching himself before he could fully lose his balance.
“Hey!” He yelped, rubbing his upper arm. The muscles beneath it flexed at his touch. “Don’t damage the merchandise.”
“I wouldn’t dare. I…” You shook your nerves loose and faced him, speaking before you fully lost yourself in his full, waiting lips. “I’d never damage merchandise as priceless as you.”
Eddie stopped in his tracks, the compliment seemingly rebooting his brain. Was it too forward? No, it couldn’t have been; he’d called you pretty just moments before. And it wasn’t as if you’d been forward enough to say he was sexy (though he was) or accidentally emasculated him by pointing out how adorable his soft dimples were (another fact).
His exhale was a disbelieving chuckle. “I, uh, don’t think anyone’s called me ‘priceless’ before. ‘Worthless,’ maybe, but…” He trailed off in an attempt to contain it as a lighthearted joke, but it was anchored by an undeniable truth.
If you could, you would wash away the ego-marring stains left behind by those who hurt him. Scrub and scrub until it was once again pristine as though they’d never been tarnished by self-doubt.
“Priceless.” You said it definitively, leaving no room for further argument.
Eddie ducked behind his hair, letting the curly locks dangle over his mouth to mask his flustered smile. You were willing to bet that a blush was spreading across the apples of his cheeks.
Curiosity loosened your inhibitions enough for you to reach out and tuck a few strands behind his ear. Sure enough, a delicate pink tinged his skin. You wanted to kiss it until your lips grew swollen from where his stubble scratched them raw.
Doing that would require something far more potent than inquisitiveness.
There was a decent crowd that night, not as packed as the weekend would have been, but there were enough people that only one empty stool remained in front of the bar. Eddie gestured to it, offering you the seat just as he had on the subway last week.
You tucked the denim fabric of your skirt behind your thighs as you sat. Eddie watched every movement, an unreadable desire darkening his expression, as if he wished it were his fingers on your skin.
Your smile seemed to snap him from his trance. He waved down the bartender, who held up her forefinger to signal she would be right over.
A shadow draped over you as you scanned the liquor-cluttered shelves, bathing you in a welcoming darkness. Protection. Eddie’s arms framed your torso, his hands planted firmly on the bartop. And when you lightly grasped his wrist, your thumb rubbing against the soft hairs on his arm, you could have sworn you felt the tension leave his body in one swift exhale.
“What are you gonna get?” The grainy pop music playing from the speakers and a cacophony of neighboring conversations muffled his voice, and he had to shout just to be heard.
“A vodka tonic.” Simple, classic, and most importantly—not expensive. Though you probably should let him be the judge of that, considering it was his treat. “If that’s okay?”
Eddie laughed softly and nodded. “It’s your night, Heiress.” The tip of his tongue swiped over his lower lip.
He ordered your drink first, then placed his order for whatever beer was on tap before declining to open a tab. Your chest went slightly concave; you should have followed his lead and ordered the cheaper option.
As if sensing your guilt, Eddie pulled back enough to look you in the eye. “It’s your night,” he repeated, grabbing your short, stout glass and placing it in your hand. He raised his own taller mug, proposing a toast. “To a badass future social worker and all of the lives she’s gonna change. For the better,” he added quickly.
Before he could clink his glass to yours, you locked eyes with him. The brown eyes that steeled themselves against you the night he first checked into the motel were now pillow-soft, beckoning you to fall. He may not have even been aware of it himself.
“To the coolest rockstar I know,” you said, allowing the lips of your glasses to touch. “And the second-coolest guest to ever stay at the motel.”
Eddie raised a brow. “Second?”
“You really think you’re cooler than Phyllis?”
“Touché.” He relented with a smirk, taking a swig of his drink that left a foamy mustache on his upper lip. Without a second thought, he licked it away.
The movement enraptured you: his tongue swiping over his skin, leaving no residue in its wake. That same tongue that peeked out from his mouth when he was focused, a simple muscle, but it held your attention for a beat too long.
“Are you…” Eddie gestured towards your vodka tonic, and you realized you hadn’t even taken a sip.
Cheers to embarrassing yourself ten minutes into the date. Non-date. Whatever it was.
The vodka’s bitterness and the bubbles from the tonic water seeped into your tongue. You savored the burn as you swallowed. It had been so long since you’d had a drink, and just the first taste had you buzzing. If you didn’t pace yourself properly, you’d be tipsy far too soon.
The sound system crackled and microphone feedback shot through the bar. You and Eddie winced in unison, each taking a gulp of your drinks.
A man in his mid-thirties, balding with a goatee, stood at a makeshift stage at the back of the bar. “Welcome to Music Mondays here at The Brink. That’s right…it’s karaoke night!”
There was a smattering of applause that didn’t match the emcee’s enthusiasm, but he remained undeterred.
“Sign up here with your name and your song, and we’ll get started in a few minutes. Drink that liquid courage and come on down!” The microphone screeched once more as he slid it back into the stand.
You turned to Eddie, your eyes wide with mischief. “You’re gonna do it, right?”
Eddie scoffed. “Fuck, no. I’m not getting up there and making a fool of myself.”
“But it’s my night,” you reminded him. “You said so yourself.”
He looked poised to argue, one hand gripped tightly around the mug’s handle, his mouth ready to say no. But then you batted your eyelashes and pouted, all in jest. A dramatic showing that you didn’t expect would convince him.
A wry smile betrayed his tough exterior as his thumb ghosted your lower lip. Lightning crackled at his touch, soft as it was, illuminating your bones and surging through your veins. When he pulled back, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, a light red stain tinged his skin. If he noticed it, he made no attempt to wipe it off.
“It is your night,” he mused, gaze flickering to your mouth before promptly returning to your eyes. When you lit up in anticipation of him conceding, he couldn’t help but grin back. “One song. And I’m choosing it.”
You couldn’t argue with him, not when his touch still lingered on your lip. He disappeared for a moment to add his name to the list. As soon as he was out of sight, you took a much larger gulp of your drink. A trickle escaped out of the corner of your mouth, and you haphazardly swiped at it with the back of your hand, lest it ruin the shirt you’d picked out especially for the date.
This isn’t a date. The reminder was as harsh as the vodka itself. You lifted the glass once more and drained it until the half-melted ice cubes clicked against your teeth. Whatever this evening was, you needed to relax. Enjoy Eddie’s company without reading too much into his every move.
You turned your attention to the TV mounted above the shelves, engrossing yourself in the scrolling closed captions. A weatherman announced that this summer was going to be a ‘scorcher,’ and though he said it with a plastic grin, you inwardly cringed at the impact the air conditioning would have on the electric bill.
“I’m up third.” Eddie’s voice broke in, turning the upcoming weather into a distant memory. He raised his brows when he saw your glass, now empty on the sticky bartop. “You finished that already?”
“Mhm.” Your smile was sloppier than you intended, your head starting to float from your neck as tipsiness crept in.
Eddie breathed out, shaking his head with a glimmer of a smirk. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or impressed, and you didn’t have time to ask before he waved over the bartender. “Just water, please.” He nodded his thanks when she slid it over. “Drink,” he said to you, and you dutifully obliged.
“What song did you pick out?” Something that is supposed to be screamed more than sung, you assumed.
He just shook his head again and swallowed more beer. “It’s a surprise.” His eyes twinkled when he said it, and you wondered if his choice erred more on the side of Madonna than Metallica.
A woman got up on stage and began her rousing rendition of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.
Peppy? Upbeat? A great way to kick off karaoke night? Absolutely.
On-key? Not even close.
“If you ever start a new band, you should ask her to join.” You chinpointed towards the woman currently butchering the Cyndi Lauper classic. “She’s got that star power, I think.”
Eddie snorted but composed himself quickly to play into your joke. “I’m worried she’d outshine me.” He widened his eyes in faux concern. “Go solo and leave me behind, y’know?”
“She’ll probably steal all of your groupies, too,” you added, tutting as if to say, what a shame.
“Even you?”
You cocked your brow. “Who said I’m your groupie?”
He leaned his elbow against the bar, mouth slackjaw at your rejection. Disbelieving laughter left his throat in a huff.
“I take you out, treat you to the best watered-down drink this city has to offer, and this is the thanks I get?” His curls brushed against his cheeks when he shook his head. “Who would you be a groupie for? Wait, no; lemme guess.” He tapped his finger to his chin. “New Kids on the Block? Boyz II Men?”
“I think I’d die if Joey McIntyre so much as looked at me.” You hadn’t meant to say that aloud. The watered-down or not, the alcohol was certainly turning sober thoughts into tipsy words.
Eddie chugged half of the beer, watching as the woman on stage finished her song and left with a triumphant bow. “Pretty sure your shitty taste in music is what plays at the gates of Hell,” he said to you.
Your response was a mere flick of your middle finger.
A man in a suit took the stage next, loosening his tie as he positioned himself behind the microphone. A group of similarly-dressed men started hooting and hollering obnoxiously the moment the opening chords to Don’t Stop Believin’ blared through the sound system.
You looked back to Eddie. If he was nervous about singing karaoke, he didn’t show it. His shoulders were relaxed, his posture much less tense than on the walk to the bar. Maybe the alcohol loosened him up as it had you.
“What about you?” You asked. “Whose groupie would you be?”
“Easy,” he said, not missing a beat. “Joan Jett. Total badass, killer musician, and hot as hell.” He nodded to confirm his choice before leaning in and loudly whispering. “Bad Reputation was basically my secret anthem in high school.”
You laughed. “Did you imagine it playing in the background when you walked down the halls?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Eddie grinned and polished off his beer.
His confession warmed you—or maybe that was just the vodka working its way through your bloodstream. Regardless, you were intrigued by the glimpse into his past and found yourself hungry for more.
“Can I ask you a non-groupie related question?”
“Shoot.”
Your tongue was heavy, the resulting slurring softening your words. “If your hometown is so shitty, why are you trying to go back?”
He loosened a chuckle, glancing at the shelves of booze before looking back to you. “My uncle still lives there. He, ah, he raised me after my dad split and my mom…y’know.” Eddie cleared his throat and managed a small smile. “Why? You want me to stick around?”
The hair on his forearm tickled when he slid it over to nudge you, his pinky finger overlapping yours.
Of course you wanted him to stick around. You’d smear honey all over the motel’s siding to lure more bees, tempt them to build their nests among the sticky sweetness, just so he would have a reason to stay.
The man on stage belted out his final “don’t stop believin’” as his buddies enveloped him in drunken hugs.
“All right!” The emcee bleated into the microphone. “Next up, we have…” He checked the sign-up sheet. “…Eddie! Let’s give him a hand, folks.”
A smattering of applause echoed throughout the room, the excitement of karaoke night already dwindling. If Eddie noticed, he didn’t show it.
“This one’s for you, Heiress.” He winked and sprinted towards the stage.
Eddie pressed his foot on the microphone stand, adjusting it so it was level with his lips. His fingers curled around its neck, dramatically tugging it closer as the instrumentals piped through the sound system.
Well, since my baby left me
Well, I found a new place to dwell
Well, it's down at the end of Lonely Street
At Heartbreak Hotel
His hips swung back and forth, the gyrations not quite as precise as Elvis’s, but he still snapped them in time with the staccato guitar chords. The right heel of his sneakers tapped the floor as he continued, voice dipping into his lower register.
Where I'll be, I'll be so lonely, baby
Well, I'm so lonely
I'll be so lonely, I could die
Free hand pressed to his heart, Eddie leaned in your direction and tilted the mic stand while he sang. The movements were reminiscent of how a man would dance with someone he loved, impassioned yet graceful. Charisma oozed from every pore, his natural command of the stage an enduring reminder of his brief foray into rock stardom.
The other patrons faded into the background as his eyes fixed on you, a personal serenade rather than karaoke night amongst a sea of drunks. Easiness weaved through each note he sang, his body loosening and his lips curving into a smile when you let out a vodka-fueled whoop of admiration.
Now, the bellhop's tears keep flowin'
And the desk clerk's dressed in black
Well, they've been so long on Lonely Street
Well, they'll never, they'll never look back
Eddie pointed to you when he referenced the desk clerk, the crowd following his every move. The heat of their stares only exacerbated the warmth that the alcohol already sent coursing through you, but you felt no need to hide. The rich timbre of his voice was a magnetic pull, drawing you in until it echoed deep in your bones.
Although it's always crowded
But you still can find some room
For broken hearted lovers
To cry there in their gloom
Where they get so, they get so lonely, baby
Well, they're so lonely
They'll be so lonely, they could die
He ended the song with one final swing of his hips, one foot turned inward in an Elvis-esque pose. If anyone else applauded for him, it couldn’t be heard over the sound of your cheers.
He made a beeline for you. “Did that live up to your expectations?” Sweat dripped from his flushed forehead and down his temples.
“Exceeded them, actually.”
The bartender slid over two shot glasses filled with amber liquid. “On the house,” she explained when you and Eddie looked at her in confusion.
You shouldn’t. The TV set that broadcasted the news showed that it was nearly nine o’clock and you were already tipsy from the one drink. Adding a shot—and subsequently mixing liquor—was a recipe for disaster.
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t wanna,” Eddie said. “I’ll take them both.”
With a shake of your head, you took the glass nearest you and downed it, the whiskey burning stronger than you had anticipated. Tears reflexively welled in your eyes, leaving you clinging to the hope that you had blinked them away before Eddie could notice.
He let out a soft, low whistle. “Well, okay then.” His own shot disappeared past his grimacing lips.
A familiar synthesized beat replaced the idle hum of conversation as a middle-aged woman began her song. Eddie threw back his head when he heard it, groaning as though the ‘80s hit left him in agony.
“You’re such a music snob,” you lamented, reaching out with both of your hands to grab onto his. If this is what liquid courage felt like, you were more than happy to ride that wave. “There’s more to life than heavy metal.”
“I just sang Elvis!” He protested, but his efforts were all in vain as you hopped off of the barstool and led him away from your empty shot glasses. “Heiress…” His tone was a warning, one that you promptly ignored.
You let your gaze meet his, the vodka-and-whiskey combination working overtime to stifle your nerves.
“Dance with me.”
Eddie laughed. “You’re tipsy.”
“I’m tipsy and I want you to dance with me.”
“You wanna dance, huh?” He laughed again when you nodded. “All right; let’s dance.”
Eddie’s hands slid down to your wrists and adjusted your arms so they draped over his shoulders, his curls tickling your fingers when they clasped behind his neck. He hesitated for a second before letting his own fingertips rest on your waist, careful to avoid dipping below the small of your back.
Watching, I keep waiting, still anticipating love
Never hesitating to become the fated ones
The current performer was marginally better than the first two, but her voice wasn’t nearly as polished as Eddie’s. She kept getting too close to the mic, the lyrics muffled each time her purple-lipsticked mouth grazed the cover.
You inched forward, your chest against Eddie’s as the two of you swayed in tandem. His fingers flexed before tugging you closer, evidence that you weren’t the only one affected by the shot.
“Can’t remember the last time I heard this song,” he mused wistfully. “Probably my senior prom. The last one, anyway.”
“You had more than one senior prom?”
His cheeks, already pinkened from the liquor, flushed a deeper shade of red. “Yeah, it, uh, took me a few tries to graduate,” Eddie admitted. “But I did it.” A sheepish smile still held a twinge of pride.
“You did it.”
“Yeah.” One arm reached back to grasp your hand and twirl you around, and you breathed an audible sigh of relief when the room didn’t spin with you. “But tonight,” he grinned, “is all about you.”
You. Not the motel or its crumbling financial infrastructure. Not the guests or your parents. Not school or exams or term papers. Just you.
An involuntary giggle wriggled its way up and you ducked your head to hide it, your forehead brushing against Eddie’s lips. Did he purse them slightly in a hint of a kiss, or was that a figment of your imagination?
Turning and returning to some secret place inside
Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say
Take my breath away
“You okay?” Eddie asked, a smile in his voice.
“Mhm. Just happy.”
“Yeah? Good.” His forefinger tucked under your chin and tilted it upwards, granting him a better look at you. The tip of his tongue parted his lips and swiped over the whiskey-scented residue. “You deserve to be happy.”
You did deserve to be happy. You deserved joyful moments in your life, people who surrounded you in sunshine even when rain poured.
My love, take my breath away
My love, take my breath away
You deserved Eddie.
Standing before you, his eyes never strayed from your form, flicking from your face to where his hands gripped your waist. His chest rose and fell in time with the music.
“I…” You swallowed your fear, already tempered by tipsiness, curling your fingers into the back of his ribbed t-shirt collar.
Desire rippled down your spine and you leaned in to close that godforsaken gap, already tasting him on your tongue.
But not before he pulled away.
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How to Start Up Bootstrap Classified Business
Bootstrap classified buy sell ads script is vital for new and private companies. In addition to other things, by and large, numerous organizations create and thrived using bootstrapping without access to long haul outside financing, over a five-year time frame (Winborg, 2009). Bootstrapping is a type of raising capital (cash) for the business. Numerous investigations showed the essential pretended by bootstrapping (Brush, N.M., Gatewood, Greene, and Hart, 2006). A substantial level of the organizations analyzed utilized bootstrapping to anchor assets. These organizations had diminished reliance on outside lenders for capital. The positive impact of bootstrapping was shown the utilization of a few sorts of bootstrapping techniques (Patel and Sohl, 2007).
Access to capital keeps on being tight. In a second from last quarter study of moneylenders (Phoenix Management Services, 2012), the dominant part of loan specialists recognized vulnerability as their central concern in regards to future financial development. Less idealism was appeared for chances of their borrowers, showing a slight pullback in their very own client development desires and a decrease in new capital ventures and procuring desires. Respondents were asked whether they intend to fix or keep up their credit structures i.e., insurance prerequisites ensure, advance rates, and advance contracts. As needs are, in every one of the four credit structures, 82 percent of moneylenders envision keeping up their advance structures in there in the close term, which demonstrated a slight move towards fixing advance principles. For the business person, utilization of bootstrapping strategies will keep on assuming an imperative job in subsidizing tasks.
Bootstrapping can be gathered into three sorts:
Cost-Reducing
Capital (Money)- Constrained
Hazard Reducing
Ten tried and broadly utilized bootstrap classified (Sherman, 2005) include:
As a business person, spare individual expenses by wearing various caps in dealing with the business.
Hardware and furniture do not need to be new, get or rent utilized resources in working the business. Additionally, be perceptive not the overpay for administration guarantees.
Utilize a huge organization to bring down expenses by sharing office space or subleasing. The attempt to gain admittance to meeting rooms, gathering administrations, and office gear, for example, duplicate machine, and so forth.
For momentary working capital, apply for a few charge cards on the double and utilize the unused acknowledge limit as a working credit extension.
For cheap HR, used the administrations of resigning officials that longing to remain occupied and stay "in the amusement" as tutors. The U.S. Independent venture Administration's Service Core of Retired Executive Program (SCORE) is an incredible hotspot for such experienced administrators. Also, procure understudies that will forfeit pay to pick up experience that can upgrade their future.
Keep up astounding client relations with key clients to urge them to pay early.
For greatest adaptability and cost controls, submit just too transient commitments and leases.
As a method for satisfying an agreement, have your real clients gain the hardware expected to meet the agreement and rent the gear.
Contingent upon state and government securities laws, utilize the organization's offers in lieu of money with your sellers (i.e., providers, proprietor, and so on.) and experts (i.e., legal counsellors, bookkeepers, authorities). Remember the weakening proportion you will surrender and recall set forth a stock buyback terms. The organization's offers are illiquid. Offer them a way to "reap" their venture with you. Think about the Sam Walton previous officials and office representatives moved toward becoming a multimillionaire with the startup of Walmart.
To procure and access key items and administrations use business bargain trades.
Business visionaries have an unequivocal intention in utilizing bootstrap classified buy sell ads script systems. The intentional decision of utilizing bootstrapping procedures can be seen in proactive routes from decrease dangers, confining costs, and financing business exercises. Such systems take into account business openings without the need to claim a sizable asset base and without the need to source outer financing. These strategies limit the requirement for money by acquiring assets at practically zero expense. Moreover, the utilization of assets can be gained without the requirement for bank financing. In general, business visionaries can use their social contacts to acquire free access to explicit assets.
The broadly acknowledged open source blogging stage, WordPress has just advanced as a site planning and improvement stage. The CMS additionally offers a variety of topics and formats as a front-end UI for the advancement of web applications. At the point when WordPress subject engineers consolidate Twitter's Bootstrap in their creation, they can get a very much coded, propelled, highlight stacked and tasteful WordPress topic that can be utilized in the WordPress site. Utilization of HTML5, CSS3, jQuery and JavaScript modules are an additional favourable position in their production of significant worth included highlights.
Standard WordPress topic, StrapPress subject, WP-Bootstrap classified ads script, Synapse Corporate Theme, Instyle, Responsive Portfolio topic, and so on are few of the WordPress topics and layouts made utilizing the Bootstrap system.
With the arrival of its new form, the clients of the structure have driven a stage ahead. The engineers of the structure have focussed on making the most recent rendition of the application available to the greatest number of clients with its extended functionalities. The new form has settled almost 100 bugs that existed in its past rendition, included new documentation with new routes, new slogan, new format and new text style, aside from utilizing another simple to utilize interface, including a couple of new highlights, expanded the adaptability and strength of their codes and has included, live precedents and walkthroughs.
The new highlights of the adaptation incorporate, dropdowns that underpin the submenus, utilization of table columns for orders, catches with square dimensions, Affix JavaScript module, routes and dropdowns with 'crippled' include, improved information office with prepended and attached help, lighter route as a matter of course with an alternative to obscure it, new text dimension and line stature, reliable network framework and some more.
What is a bootstrap classified business?
A generally safe method for developing your business to preserve cash and utilize different assets to help develop your business.
For what reason would somebody need to utilize a bootstrap business approach?
• If you have an extraordinary thought for a business and would prefer not to squander whenever kicking it off, however, don't have the cash to put resources into employing help or purchasing gear.
• If you as of now have obligation it is stupid to go up against any progressive money related duty and hazard placing yourself in a surprisingly more terrible position to the point where you couldn't recoup.
• If you would prefer not to go up against any accomplices or surrender value in your business. The purpose of beginning up a business is so you can have control of it so for what reason would you need to invest such energy and exertion into building a business and be compelled to reply to another person? In addition, suppose your business takes off and you have the achievement for what reason would you need to impart the slice of the benefit to a quiet accomplice who perhaps doesn't have indistinguishable energy from you.
• Know when to burn through cash and when to spare it. A ton of times you can settle on the wrong decision since you are attempting to moderate to make money, however, spend the money in the correct zones. For instance, while making a site for your business procure an expert or organization that can make, plan and get the achievement online that you require. Try not to endeavour something of this size except if you have the correct experience level for it.
• Since bootstrapping is a do-it-without anyone else's help business you risk being inferior contrasted with your opposition since they have more cash to put resources into advanced materials and item improvement that you may not. So dependable search for approaches to enhance what you are as of now doing with your business, everything necessary is one awful structure or terrible promoting advertisement and you could be enduring a greater set back than you had anticipated. An absence of polished methodology can have a negative impact on your business
Approaches to have achievement in your best bootstrap classified business:
1) Hard work - realize that time and exertion will be your greatest venture since you are preserving cash.
2) Place your business first - cut back wherever you can on close to home things to have more money available for your business.
3) Be arranged to do everything - from the cleaning, to calling clients, acquiring, shipping, passing out special material, to painting, and so on whatever you realize how to do and whatever you can figure out how to do.
4) Find approaches to create additional money without surrendering possession - search for supporters, advance installments, and possibly side occupations that you can finish rapidly for additional income for your new company.
5) Use every one of your assets - Find loved ones that will enable you to out. Motivate them to utilize their mastery for you.
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