Sipping on Fire

Chapter 1

It was 1am on a Monday night, the bar was empty and I was the lucky one in charge of closing it down, almost every night. I went to the radio and turned off the bar music and plugged in my iPhone to shuffle my music. First things first, I needed to get comfortable. I slipped a camo hoodie over my tight, low-cut uniform tank top before kicking off my heels and slipping on some flip flops. 'Much better' I nodded and thought to myself.

I walked up behind the register and began counting my tips. I'm not sure why I bothered. In this sleepy Georgia town on a Monday night, I was lucky if I made $100. Nonetheless, I counted every penny, praying I'd break $100 and could finally be one step closer to buying myself my dream truck.

I heard the bar door open right as I counted the last dollar...$97.50. "We're closed." I muttered disappointedly.

"Please...I could really use a drink..." A southern drawl spoke up. I looked up from the cash in my hand to see a shaggy haired, tatted up man.

He could use a drink, and truthfully, I could use the money. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but he looked so familiar. I pointed at the bar seat in front of me. "What'll it be?"

He sauntered over to the bar, his cowboy boots clacking against the hardwood floor. "Jack, straight up." He pointed a finger at the ceiling. He ran his hand through his long light brown hair and sighed as he sat down. "I appreciate you stayin' open, darlin'." His light blue eyes were piercing, yet looked tired. He sent me a crooked smile as I set the glass down in front of him and free-poured Jack into it.

"Just keep it quiet, I can't afford to get fired."

He zipped his lips with his fingers and threw away the key, "Secret is safe with me." His index finger grazed the rim of the glass slowly, in thought. "Would you like a drink? I don't really feel like drinking alone..." I waved him off as to say 'no thanks'. "My treat." He insisted. I looked up from the bar top to see his eyes nearly begging for a companion. I sighed heavily, grabbed another glass and filled it with Jack. He held his glass up. "Cheers!" He said before tapping it to mine.

I cleared my throat, "What brings you here so late?"

He sat back in the seat comfortably. "Couldn't sleep, I guess. It's been a long few months." My eyes trailed down his tattooed, chiseled arms. I had always had a thing for the bad boy look.

"Do you live here?" I leaned onto my forearms on the bar top.

He shrugged. "Kind of. I moved a while ago...but I like to escape life and come back here occasionally." He took a giant gulp from his glass "I haven't been here in about a year."

"What brings you back?" When he didn't immediately answer, I felt awkward. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to pry. I just figured that if you didn't want to drink alone, that you would want someone to talk to..."

He pulled out the seat next to him "Come sit." He pat the chair softly. Without hesitation, I hopped over the bar top and slid into the chair next to him. He cleared his throat, "My engagement recently ended. I guess I just needed time to myself." 'Open mouth, insert foot.' I mentally smacked myself in the forehead.

Without even thinking I reached out to his tatted up forearm and squeezed gently "I'm sorry."

He shrugged, "You know, at first it really hurt. But the more I think about it, the more I realize it was for the best. She just wasn't meant for me. We were too different." I caught myself just staring at, still wondering why he looked so familiar. He cleared his throat nervously. "Do I-do
I have something on my face or something?" He stuttered

I giggled softly, "No, I'm sorry. It's just..." I tapped my fingers on my glass "you look so familiar to me, and I can't figure out why..."

He blushed and looked away. "I get that a lot."

I shook my head to clear my head and change the subject. "How long are you here for?"
He reached for the bottle of Jack in front of us and topped off both of our glasses "However long it takes me to get out of this funk." He said matter-of-factly. "What's your name, darlin'?"

"Lauren." I spoke softly, almost in a whisper, trying not to get lost in his baby blue eyes. He tossed back the glass of Jack and pulled some cash out of his pocket, placing it on the bar.

He held out his ring clad hand, "Tyler. But you can call me T."

I placed my hand in his, it was strong and blistered. "Nice to meet you."

"I'll let you get back to closing down the bar." He placed a small kiss on the back of my hand and got up from the seat at the bar. "I'll definitely be back." He winked, and with that he walked out of the bar, leaving me speechless. It wasn't like me to be hooked so fast, but whoever Tyler was, I wanted to get to know him. I sat there, staring at the door for what felt like forever, until I realized he wasn't coming back. I snapped myself out of my trance and counted the money he dropped on the bar. There had to have been at least $200 sitting here.

I felt something hit my toe, I looked down to see what looked like a guitar pick laying next to my flip flop. It must have fallen out when I was shuffling through the money to get a count. I bent down to pick it up. "FGL..." I read the writing on the pick. "FGL...FGL...FGL.." I repeated over and over again, hoping to get a clue. "FGL......." Then it hit me. "Florida Georgia Line." My jaw dropped. "No friggin' way."