Walking a Thin Line

|c.3|

Jo couldn’t believe how late it was when Pete finally spoke up, his voice tired and desperate. “Uh, Mr. Santoro, I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s 1 a.m. Jo and I have been here all day. Think we could wrap this up?”

Rafe, leaning back in his booth with an easy grin, glanced at Jo. “Looks like I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He drained the last of his Coke and stood, pulling out a sleek black card from his wallet. Without looking at the bill, he handed it to Jo. “Close it out for me, sweetheart.”

Jo hesitated, taking the card from his hand. The weight of it was oddly intimidating—so different from the cards she used, always checking her balance before making any purchase. She envied his confidence, his luxury, his ability to spend without a second thought.

When she returned with the receipt, Rafe signed it with a quick flourish and slid it back to her. “Keep the tip,” he said casually.

Jo didn’t think much of it until she went to enter the tip into the POS system, only for the screen to demand a manager override. She frowned, checking the numbers again, her heart skipping a beat as the reality sank in.

“Pete!” she called, trying to keep her voice steady.

Pete shuffled over, muttering something under his breath until his eyes landed on the receipt. His jaw dropped. “Eight... eight thousand dollars?!”

Jo’s head snapped toward Rafe, who was watching her with an amused expression. “That’s a mistake,” she said quickly, shoving the receipt toward him.

“It’s not.” Rafe’s tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Pete sputtered, scratching the back of his head. “Uh... I’ll need to go into the safe for that kind of cash.” He looked like he wanted to protest, but one deadly glare from Rafe silenced him. Pete hurried off to the back office without another word.

Jo turned to Rafe, her hands gripping the counter. “I can’t take this. It’s too much.”

“You were a wonderful server,” Rafe said, his voice softer now. “You deserved it. And you helped me... more than you realize.”

There was something in the way he looked at her—those dark, intense eyes—that made her pulse race. His words were innocent enough, but the heat in his gaze betrayed his true feelings. Jo felt her cheeks flush, the tension between them almost tangible.

Before she could respond, Pete returned, handing her a thick wad of cash. “You need to go straight home and hide this. You hear me? This neighborhood isn’t safe for that kind of money, and...” He paused, his tone lowering. “You know how your parents are.”

Jo grimaced but nodded.

“I’ll drive her,” Rafe said, stepping forward.

Jo blinked at him, her heart skipping a beat. “You don’t have to—”

“I insist.” His tone left no room for argument.

She hesitated, then nodded, clutching the cash tightly as she followed him to his car.

The drive was surprisingly comfortable. They talked more, learning little details about each other—favorite songs, childhood dreams, the things they wished they could change about their lives. The more they spoke, the more Jo felt drawn to him.

But Rafe, though charming and attentive, never once crossed the line. He didn’t let his eyes wander, didn’t make any suggestive comments. It was as though he was acutely aware of her age, careful to maintain his boundaries.

When they reached her apartment, Rafe’s expression darkened. The building was dilapidated, the surrounding streets dimly lit and littered with trash.

Jo sighed, slumping back in her seat.

“That bad?” Rafe asked, his voice low.

Jo nodded, her gaze fixed on the cracked concrete steps. “If it’s quiet, you’ll hear them arguing. And if they’re drunk, they’re fighting. They’re always drunk.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and before she could stop him, Rafe reached out, gently brushing it away with his thumb. The gesture was so tender, so unlike anything she’d experienced, that it made her heart ache.

Without thinking, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a soft, hesitant kiss.

Rafe froze for a moment, caught off guard. But as Jo deepened the kiss, he began to melt into it, his hands finding her waist as she climbed into his lap. For a brief, heated moment, the world faded away, and all that existed was the two of them.

But then Rafe pulled back, his hands gripping her shoulders firmly as he set her back in the passenger seat.

“Jailbait,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her.

Jo blinked, confusion and embarrassment washing over her.

Without a word, Rafe stepped out of the car, walking around to her side to open the door. He helped her out, his expression unreadable.

They climbed the stairs in silence, the tension between them palpable. When they reached her apartment door, Rafe turned to her, gently kissing her forehead.

“Goodnight, Jo,” he whispered before walking away, leaving her standing there speechless.

Inside, the chaos was as loud as ever—her parents shouting, something breaking in the background. But Jo didn’t care. She went straight to her room, locking the door behind her.

Her lips still tingled from their kiss, her mind replaying the moment over and over. For the first time in a long while, she felt alive.