Free Saving from Monkeys by Jessie L. Star

one that was seriously going to screw everything up.
    Usually on nights out at Haze Elliot went against the strict dress code just to piss Jonah's old man off. Not that ripped jeans and scuffed sandshoes paid Mr Powlski back for all the missed rugby games and snide crap he'd given his son over the years about his weight, but it was something. That night, though, was different and, by the time he was ready, he looked like a walking poster boy for Haze in black jeans and a green designer t-shirt. Exactly what Rox hated. Sometimes it was like he didn't even have to try.
    Earlier it might’ve been for him, but Haze wa s already pumping when he arrived; noisy patrons spilling out of the queue round the block in a colourful snake. Elliot joined the line, ignoring, as he always did, Mr Powlski’s insistence that he could skip the queue.
    Considering how packed the place was, when he finally made it inside he thought he might have trouble spotting Rox, but she was the first person he saw, standing at the bar almost directly in front of him. He ducked to the side for a second and took the opportunity to check her out before she saw him.
    Completely alone, she stood out with her bright red top, tight jeans and decidedly fed up expression. She'd mussed up her hair, giving it that sexy bed head look, her rumpled curls instantly making him think of when he'd seen her with real bed hair, her lips puffy from kissing him and her naked body soft and warm against his. It was a good memory, but he pushed it aside almost immediately. One thing had become pretty damn clear over the past month, his punishment for not telling Rox what had happened that night was feeling like a pervert every time he pictured any of their time together.
    Maybe that was one good thing that would come out of tonight, if she really had remembered what had happened ; those memories might stop coming with a guilt blow to the gut. Of course everything else would go to pot…
    He pulled himself together and was just about to go over to Rox and get the ball rolling when he saw that someone had beaten him to it, or rather, her. Haze might’ve been crowded, but Rox's scowl had managed to secure her a patch of the bar to herself; as Elliot watched, however, a big guy with dark curly hair sauntered over to impose himself on her solitude. And impose he did, pushing his muscular frame into her personal space until her small form was swamped.
    Rox looked up in surprise at this sudden invasion, her green eyes looking over this random for some familiarity and then, obviously seeing none, glazing over with polite disinterest.
    "Girls with arses like yours shouldn't have to buy their own drinks." That was the stranger's opening gambit and Elliot froze, something between a laugh and a snarl stuck in his throat.
    Rox went similarly still and then stared up at him incredulously. "Um...wow," she said, although Elliot had to move in closer and concentrate on her lips to work out what she was saying over the music blasting up from the dance-floor downstairs. "I didn't realise I could use my arse as currency. I used the Australian dollar to buy my drink,” she nodded at the glass on the bar in front of her, “and that seemed to work alright, though."
    The guy hitting on her obviously hadn't been expecting that reply and , for a moment, he seemed to be at a loss as to what to say in response. Unfortunately he soon recovered and, clearly thinking he was some sort of witty genius, replied, "I'll buy you a drink then and you can pay me back in arse currency later."
    Rox choked, her face a picture of horror. "Thanks, but no, I'm good. I can get my own drinks."
    "So you want to just skip straight to the arse stuff then?" The guy clapped a hand onto the area in question and she reared back as Elliot made exactly the same move forward towards them.
    Rox wasn't some damsel in distress, and he knew she wouldn't thank him for getting involved, but everything in him said that the time for hanging