On the Rocks

II (HAZEL)

I (im)patiently wait by my phone for the email confirming my first shift. It has been a few days since I was offered the job and I cannot get the three men out of my mind. Something about them is stuck in my head. Maybe the brooding gaze of Atlas, or the playfulness that threatens from Dawson. Or maybe the equilibrium between the two that is Theo. 

I throw on a black hoodie and some black gym leggings, pairing them with fluffy socks. The apartment is freezing but I can't afford to turn the heating on. I scrape my dark hair into a messy bun and walk over to the kettle to make myself a cup of tea. 

However, I find myself running to my room to retrieve my phone when I hear a notification. My eyebrow raises as I read the text.

Unknown: Spitfire, your first shift is Thursday at 3pm. Don't be late.

Knowing the nickname he gives me, it must be Dawson. When I saw them yesterday, they gave me the impression I wouldn't be interacting with them directly. Why isn't someone else in contact with me, giving the details for shifts. Nevertheless, I write back. 

Me: Will be there :)

I gaze at my phone, cringing at sending a smiley face. A full stop just felt too bare though. 

Plane Enthusiast ✈️: Uniform should be with you by today. See you soon, Spitfire. 

I lock my phone and being to panic. Tomorrow is Thursday. Shit. I need to brush up on my bartending skills. It's been a few months. 

I grab the tattered bartending book I found at a charity shop a year ago and read over the chapters of pages stating the ingredients to make every standard cocktail. I even read up on some extreme cocktails that are only asked for once in a blue moon.

I am so engrossed in my studies that I don't realise someone is at my door until they bang on it with such force that would concuss a child. Jumping out of my skin, I slam the book close and throw it onto the sofa where I was sitting and run to open the door. 

"Thought you'd be needing these,"  Theo says huskily as he leans against the doorframe, holding out what I assume is my work uniform. He is wearing a similar suit to the one from a few days ago and his hair is styled neatly but messy. A perfect art. 

"Uhm...hello," I blink in confusion. I thought they were sending them to me. Why is he delivering them himself?

"So this is where you live, huh," he looks past me and into my apartment. 

"Yeah. It's not much but I like it," I pause, "it's not usually this messy though." A total lie.

"It seems... safe," he smirks and I see a glisten of laughter in his eyes. I remember my neighbours are having their hourly row and zone into the loud shouting and banging noises coming from below. 

"It's fine," I say, shrugging my shoulders. Truth is, I am not in a position to judge it as it is all I can afford. in fact, I can't even afford it at the moment. I shuffle awkwardly, staring at him and wondering what to say next. Just as I am about to say something else, he gives a small finger salute with his two fingers and starts walking away.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," I shout after him. 

"See you later, Winters" he says back without looking back. 

I shut the door and slip down against it to the floor. The anxiety of going to work is starting to get to me. I shut my eyes and remember the grounding techniques my therapist gave me a few years ago. Deep breath...inhale...exhale. 

After what feels like an eternity, I manage to scrape myself up from the floor and flop into my unmade bed in the adjoining room. My stomach rumbles but I don't bother to look for food. I already know I need to ration out the food I bought today for the whole week. My eyes start to feel heavy and I begin to fall asleep.

By the time they open again, the light is pouring in from the window. Rubbing my eyes, I look over to my phone and see the time.

Oh shit. 

It's 2:35pm. I have 25 minutes to get ready and into work. 

I scramble to the kitchen and grab the uniform Theo had dropped off. It was a simple black mini skirt, black tights and a long sleeve black top, with a low cut neckline. That will help me get tips. I put it on quickly but leave the black apron that covers my skirt and take it with me to put on when I get there.

I apply some mascara and carve out my eyebrows slightly before scraping my long hair into a neat slicked back ponytail.

I run out of the door with my keys, phone and apron in my hand. I only stop to put my coat on and check the time.

2.50pm.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

My panicked walk becomes a sprint and by the time I am outside the bar, I know my face is red by the way that I am so out of breath.

God, cardio is literally free and I still skip it. Talk about lazy. 

I try to gather myself and straighten out my outfit before pushing through the double doors and lifting my head up. I plaster a confident smile onto my face. No one needs to see through my mask. It's not pretty. 

Before I can walk through the foyer and into the main bar, an arm yanks me into the adjoining cloakroom. 

I blink at the contrast of darkness compared to the brightness I was just in. 

"You're late," a gruff voice mumbles into my ear from behind me. 

"What in the-"

✩*⋆☾⋆｡°✩✩*⋆☾⋆｡°✩✩*⋆☾⋆｡°✩✩*⋆☾⋆｡°✩✩*⋆☾⋆｡°✩

Thoughts?

Sorry a bit of a filler chapter.

Who do you think pulled Hazel into the cloakroom?

How will her first day at work go?

Word count: 978