Jily Oneshots (pt2)

Hey There, Bartender

"Hey there Bartender," he said with the slightest southern accent, "was hoping I could ask you for a drink?"

"What can I get you?" she asked politely.

The man held out a piece of napkin. Lily tilted her head and reached out, surprised to find his name and number written on it.

James Potter. 760793788.

Lily looked back up and found he was smiling a wide and white grin directly at her. He was absolutely the hottest bloke she'd seen in at least a week. His jawlines themselves could've held up their own conversation.

"I'm Lily," she said, tucking the paper into her bra.

He replied softly, eyes following her hand before shooting back up, "you might remember me, I'm the bloke who stared all night, then ran away."

Lily tucked her red hair behind her ear, tugging on the strands that always got stuck in her gold hoops, "I remember."

"I got a bit nervous, you see." he said, "a pretty bartender kept looking at me."

She pulled out a glass and filled it with beer, placing it in front of him with a coy smile that sent his own face flaming. Lily was forced to run away from him that time, but the liquid courage kept him at the bar. By the time lunch rush left, she was almost finished her shift.

When she glanced over, he was watching her, "time for a break?"

She shrugged, "almost done, actually."

Lily chewed her lip, then decided she might as well entertain the bloke, since she had to wait another half hour for her bus home anyways. James watched as she came around the bar, pulling her jeans up higher on her hips as she walked over. Her boots were painted with flowers today and his hazel eye traced every flower with interest.

"I like your boots." James said, eyes shooting back up to her face.

"Thanks," Lily smiled, "I like your music."

He had such a boyish grin that promised her laughter if only she waited a while, "you wouldn't happen to be a music producer on the side, would you?"

Lily knit her brows together, "no, why?"

"Good, because I was worried you were only on my side of the bar to offer me a contract."

Lily's eyes fluttered up into her hair, "you don't want a singing contract?"

"Of course I do," he scoffed, patting the empty chair beside him, "but I wanted you to fancy me back, more."

Lily snorted, falling into the seat beside him and motioning to her co-worker Mary to bring them both whiskey sours, "what kind of man says, fancy ?"

She was flirting, damn her.

James smiled even wider, "the posh kind, with two Brits for parents."

"Ah," she crossed one leg over the other, aware his eyes were taking in her every curve, "no accent though?"

"Lost it when I was ten."

"Tragic," she shot back, "we American's love a good accent."

He laughed and it was as warm sounding as his musical genre, "I can do a pretty good imitation southern drawl."

"Don't." Lily said quickly. "That accent has gotten pretty old around these parts."

"I can't imagine why."

James and Lily just smiled at each other. Lily took the whiskey from Mary and knocked half of it back. James sipped his carefully before putting it down and facing her again with a bold look in his hazel eyes.