Nothing To Prove

2 Trying To Impress You, Dumbass

To my pleasant surprise, the girl looked up at me and unlike the come-hither gaze from cake face over here, she had light brown eyes like a lost baby deer. I blurted out whatever came to mind.

"I don't know. Are we?"

It was too dark to tell if she blushed, but her eyes rounded even more and her mouth fell open.

"She's my girlfriend." I pointed my chin, turning back to the bride. I handed her the tab so she could sign and fuck off. "Anyway, congratulations on your wedding. Good luck." To your husband.

"Oh, thanks." She still gave me a suggestive look as she slid off the chair with the rest of her friends. "Bye, sorry about that." She wiggled her fingers at the girl who was still gaping.

"Ugh, I'm really sorry." I grabbed the tab and turned it toward her. "At least she left a nice tip, huh? Can I get you anything to drink? On me for bothering you."

Her lips formed different letters but none of them made it out of her mouth. Then she word vomited, looking down at her screen.

"No, thank you, I'm good. I don't want anything."

"Well, that's a first." I laughed, wiping the counter tops. "You waiting for someone?"

"Me? Oh, no. I'm just killing time." She suddenly gasped like she realized something and jumped off the stool, tucking it back in. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm totally taking up this spot. Somebody else should sit here, right? Otherwise you're not going to make any money."

"What?" I furrowed my brows. Why did she care whether I made money?

"Of course! It's all about tips. My God, I'm so stupid⁠—" She was talking to herself at this point and turning around to leave.

"Whoa! Excuse me? Come back here." I pointed my chin down at the wooden bar top. "Who said you're taking up this spot? Sit."

"No, it's fine." She turned her face to the side, a wrinkle etching between her brows. She was like an angry kitten. Her voice wasn't even icy enough for me to believe she wanted me to fuck off. It was soft and feminine, and a little bit needy.

"Please, come back here?" I smiled, leaning my forearms on the counter. I opened my hand and curled it at her. "Come."

She hesitated forward, folding her arms like a student in a classroom. Then she tapped her heel on the floor and looked away with indifference. As if she didn't just obey me right now.

"Are you single?" I asked.

"What?" Her stoic composure cracked.

"Are you single? You're really hot." I lowered my neck to her eye level, softening my voice since she seemed so nervous. "Beautiful, actually. I just didn't want to sound too cheesy."

"You think I'm—" She pointed at herself, then looked left and right, and leaned closer. "If this is one of those bartender tricks to earn more tips, I swear I would, because obviously you're so"—she circled her hand over my face—"and, of course"—she motioned over my body, then kissed her fingers like an Italian chef. "God's work, but I really can't. I'm super broke."

For the first time tonight, I genuinely laughed, and with it, a layer of annoyance melted off.

"Thank you, I'm very flattered." I highly doubted a taken girl would say something like that.

New patrons rounded the corner by the bar to order their drinks and I nodded in acknowledgment that I'd help them soon.

"Sit tight, I want you to think of something I can make for you. I'll be right back." I hoped to God she stayed put as I hurried to take their orders, whipping up five different kinds of drinks.