The Offer [POV: Nate]
The morning air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain from the night before. I leaned against my car, watching the entrance of the club, waiting.
I wasn’t sure why I had come this early, only that I needed to see her. Something about last night felt unfinished, like a conversation that had been cut off too soon.
When Hannah finally emerged from the side alley, she was dressed in an oversized hoodie, her dark hair loosely tied back, a cigarette tucked behind her ear. She cradled a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, taking a sip as she walked.
She hadn’t noticed me yet, but the moment her gaze lifted and met mine, she slowed.
Her expression shifted, something between amusement and exasperation crossing her face.
“The bar doesn’t open ‘til six,” she called, her voice carrying through the quiet street. “You’re too early.”
I pushed off the car, tucking my hands into my pockets. “I’m not here for booze.”
She took another sip, eyeing me over the rim of her cup. “Then why are you outside a strip club before noon? Hoping to get an early show?”
I let out a small chuckle. “I came to see you.”
Hannah’s eyebrows lifted slightly before she shook her head, muttering something under her breath.
“Nate, whatever this is, it was just—”
“Come on a date with me.”
She froze mid-step.
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she let out a small laugh, shaking her head again.
“You can’t be serious.”
I took a step closer, watching her reaction. “And why’s that?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Because I’m a stripper, Nate. I sleep with men for money.”
The words were meant to sting, to make me hesitate. But I didn’t flinch.
Instead, I reached for her, my hands settling at her waist as I pulled her close.
She sucked in a breath, her fingers instinctively clutching my jacket, her usual sharp retorts lost for once.
“You keep putting yourself down,” I said softly, my voice steady. “Like you don’t deserve something real. Like you don’t deserve someone who actually gives a damn.”
Her eyes flickered with something unreadable. “And you think you’re that person?”
I tightened my grip slightly, letting her feel how serious I was. “I know I am.”
She let out another shaky breath, but this time, there was no laughter.
I leaned down, just close enough for her to hear me over the quiet hum of the city.
“Go out with me,” I murmured. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
She searched my face like she was waiting for me to waver. But I didn’t.
And then, slowly, she smirked.
“Fine,” she said. “One date.”
***
One date turned into two. Then three.
It didn’t feel like dating, not in the traditional sense. We didn’t do candlelit dinners or romantic walks in the park. Instead, we went to late-night diners, ordered burgers and milkshakes, talked about nothing and everything. She made fun of me for my terrible taste in movies. I called her out on her obsession with astrology.
It was easy.
Effortless in a way I didn’t expect.
Hannah never pretended to be something she wasn’t. She was unfiltered, brutally honest, but there were moments when she let her guard slip—when I saw glimpses of the girl behind the sharp edges, the one who wasn’t used to being cared for without a price.
And somewhere along the way, she let me in.
Not all at once. But piece by piece.
One night, as we lay tangled in bed, our bodies warm and spent from the hours before, I ran a hand down her spine, pressing a lingering kiss against her shoulder.
“I got a job offer,” I murmured.
She hummed sleepily, her fingers lazily tracing circles against my chest. “For what?”
“A bigger hospital. More opportunities. Better pay.”
She lifted her head slightly, blinking at me. “And?”
I hesitated before adding, “You wouldn’t have to work at the club anymore.”
That woke her up.
She sat up, the sheets slipping from her bare shoulders, exposing the marks I had left along her skin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I pushed myself onto my elbows. “It means I could take care of you, Hannah. You wouldn’t have to dance for guys who don’t even see you as a person.”
Her expression hardened. “And you think that’s what I need? For you to ‘take care’ of me?”
“That’s not what I—”
“I like dancing, Nate.” Her voice was sharp, defensive. “I like being wanted. Being worshiped. I like knowing I have control over something. You think I hate it, but I don’t. Not all of it.”
I held her gaze, watching the way she clenched her jaw, the way she folded her arms over her chest like she was trying to shield herself.
I sighed, reaching for her hand.
“I’m not asking you to change, Hannah.” My voice was quieter now, calmer. “I just want you to know you have options. If you ever want out, you don’t have to do it alone.”
She studied me for a long moment.
Then, she laced her fingers with mine, bringing my knuckles to her lips, pressing the softest kiss against them.
“You’re too good for me, Dr. Wood.”
I smirked, flipping her onto her back, pinning her beneath me.
“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”
