MATURE 18+
Emily never needed someone to walk into her life to save her, to teach her, to need her. She never wanted someone to either.
Until he walked into the bar, and she couldn't ever imagine not needing that again.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I'm wandering around downtown after having been into the bar to say hi to Sam, who gave me a very warm welcome in the form of an almost suffocating hug as my feet swung above the ground. He held me up for at least 5 minutes, swaying me side to side, and at some point, his boyfriend, Luca joined in, running his hand over my hair and telling me that he knew people who we can pay to be violent.
Whether or not he meant the mafia is not something I want to dwell on.
After I left the bar I bought myself a caramel latte and now I'm trying to find something to entertain me, not that there is much to do for me alone around here. I'm about to head back to my car when I spot a garage across the street from me, the sign looks relatively new with some wear and tear. The name is pretty much informational, 'The garage' sits across the front of the building and it makes me smile at the simplicity.
I remember the fact that my car is due for a service soon, proud of the fact that I actually remembered before it's expired, and cross the road to ask about prices. I let myself in the front door and I'm surprised with how big the space is once you get inside.
There's a desk to the right of the door and set behind it is a large space, the walls lined with some metal drawers and tools hooked up on walls around the place. There are three cars in at the minute, two of which seemingly have someone underneath them doing some kind of work. To the left of the door, opposite the desk there are some pictures, seemingly of staff over the years and I think it's sweet how happy they all look to be working together.
I hear someone clear their throat in front of me, not even having noticed that someone has arrived to help me while I've been busy looking around.
The man in front of me is decidedly good looking, his olive skin is slightly smeared with oil and his dark hair curls around the base of his neck.
"What can I help you with today?" he asks, slight accent spilling out around his words, leaning towards me on his forearms as he asks me the question and I sip on my coffee,
"I just wanted to ask about booking my car in for a service? Prices and such" I reply back to him and watch as he rummages around the pile of paperwork in front of him in search of something.
He seemingly finds what he was looking for after a few minutes, holding up a notebook triumphantly and flipping open the pages, passing todays date and landing on a page next week,
"Okay so we have some availability next Tuesday, depending what time you would need. Price varies for what kind of work your car would need, but I'm sure we could work something out" and he puts the book down, keeping his hand on the page and looking at me with a smirk.
"Are you flirting with some poor unfortunate soul?" a female voice shouts out behind the man serving me and a dainty woman comes around his shoulder, purple hair tied up in a bun on top of her head.
She turns to look at me,
"Well you know what Rico I can't say I blame you on this one" she says, smiling at me and asking me what I need help with.
I repeat what I said to who I now know is Rico and she peeks over at the page he has open in the date book, nodding her head and asking me what time I need, plucking the book out from under his hand as he shoots her a dirty look.
"I can do any time that day, whenever works best for you with your availability" I shrug, smiling as the two of them listen intently to what I say, nodding along.
"Okay well why don't I take your number-" and the woman interrupts with a scoff,
"Oh please, I'm your go to gal for making an appointment, jot down your number here for me" and I hear a deep chuckle come from behind the pair, both of them rolling their eyes at the sound.
"Can neither of you go one day without competing for someone's number. It makes us look highly unprofessional when you're hitting on every other customer" the pair in front of me turn their heads to look at the other person who has joined us as he walks to where I stand at the front door.
My mouth goes dry at the sigh in front of me. Here, greased up in a tight white t-shirt and blue overalls tied around his waist, hair slicked back from his face and a rag in his hands, is Nate.
The mental image I created in my head of this very moment has done him absolutely no justice as I'm looking at him now.
