Rebel, Rebel. (h i a t u s)

▲ c h a p t e r s e v e n ▲

AN: Guys I don't know what the hell happened! I logged in and saw that this chapter was deleted! So I'm reuploading it, so sorry for the inconvience! 

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The smoke was so thick, you could probably capture it in a jar. I've never been a fan of cigarette or cigar smoke, particularly in small, crowded areas, such as this run down bar. Half of the people here are dancing drunk, while the other are still in the process of getting drunk. I was hunched over the rickety red wood table, in the corner of a busted leather booth, I had given up scanning the crowd for Carmen, to keep an eye on her. It wasn't any use, she'd dance with everyone in the bar twice before we left. I did, however, see JB in the crowd, her purple hair twisted into a high ponytail, and swinging heavily while she danced.

I huffed, and slid from the cracked seat, standing up and adjusting my pants. I decided to try and enjoy the rest of my night. Earlier today was incredibly revolting, having to seen so many obnoxious little girls in such a small setting. And, I'm not to happy that Carmen was so shaken up from the concert, that I had to drive us here to this place. She insisted we visit this bar in specific, because it was a common area for underground musicians to hang out and play at.

I turned my head to the left, seeing an empty space at the bar, the empty stool covered in the same old broken leather as the booths were. Behind the bar was a rather tall man, with muscles stretching the thin black shirt he wore. His hair was black as well, flicked back from his forehead. Calling him charming would be quite the understatement.

I chewed my bottom lip in thought, then decided to make my night go from bland, to interesting. I tugged at the dark leopard bralette I was wearing, adjusting the zipper just barely, pushing my breasts up further, and more visible. I shoved my hand up in the waves of my hair, then tossed it slightly, putting on a smile, and strutting towards the bar, my eyes fixed upon the tender.

I slid up onto the stool, and leaned my elbows on the bar, smiling big at the tender. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and a slight grin cracked the firm line that his lips were pursed in. He slid the boys in front of him their drink and walked over the me, his abdominal muscles flexing beneath his shirt. He leaned on the bar in front of me, inches between our face.

“What can I get you, miss thing?” He asked, with a deep, throaty voice. His ice eyes held mine, almost uncomfortably hard.

“Hmm,” I thought, “A redheaded slut would be nice,” I felt myself blush when his face broke into a grin, and I couldn't help but smile a little, myself.

“Yes,” He nodded, “It would be.” His eyes trailed from the top of my head down to my bare mid-drift, then back up into my eyes. His eyes left a burning trail over each piece of my body it scanned. “I'll get that right to ya.”

He turned towards the shelf full of small glasses, taking on down, and filling it with juices and Jagermeister. He slid the small glass across the bar to me, with a wink, and turned towards the older man who had just sat down on the other side. I threw back the shot, and slammed the glass down harder than I intended.

The hard slam of the glass made the gentlemen next to me slowly spin around until he was fully facing me. Then, the curly bush of hair, seemed oh so familiar.

Feeling a warm buzz throughout my body, I smiled sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“You can really throw down,” His eyebrows raised.

“Hey,” I pointed my finger, “Who are you?”

He sipped his Agave Kiss, the drink he was sharing with the boy besides him, and grinned a toothy grin, dimples pinching the sides of his face, “I'm harry.”