Where The Dandelions Grow

05 - Dreamy

Taking a bathroom break, I also take a breather, looking in the mirror to fix my hair.

I undo and redo my ponytail and tighten it at the top of my head, then pull out two front curls so that they dangle over my face. I can't help but notice the dark circle surrounding my eyes, paired with eyebags. I shut them, shaking my head.

"Cute." The voice comes from behind, startlingly.

I jump and turn towards him. Brandon.

Gripping my heart, I let out a sigh of relief. "Do you always just creep around and follow girls into the woman's bathroom like a fucking weirdo? Should I be worried?"

He points and I follow his finger to the urinals lined up at the opposite wall. "This..." He coughs. "This is the men's bathroom, actually." Sniffles.

"Oh," I grind my teeth and let out a long breath. "Nice to know." I quickly walk past him and back into the bar after bumping into a man walking into the bathroom that I had mistaken to be the women's. I mutter sorry and keep it moving.

Brandon follows me, I can hear his presence shortly behind. "What you up to?"

I go behind the bar and spot Greg doing tables, he sees me back at the bar and nods in confirmation. I bring my attention back to Brandon who sits at one of the stools where several other guys sit, drinking or waiting for drinks.

"I'm working, isn't that obvious enough?" I take down an order and turn around to make it.

"No, I know. I was just wondering if you normally hang out in the men's bathroom."

I glance at him, rolling my eyes at the wide grin on his face. "Funny. Actually, hilarious, can you see how much I'm laughing?" I stop to point at my straight face and get back to the drink.

He chuckles. I wish it was quieter in here so I can hear his laugh better. Not for any reason, just because it sounds so... whatever.

I keep glancing at him as he watches me work, making me hyperaware of how I look, walk, and talk. Why is he staring so much?

I stop in front of him after a few orders are done and lean my arms on the bar table. "What do you want?" I scan the rest of the bar, the tables, and the booths in the back. "Where's your buddies? They're not with you today?"

His smile fades, he shakes his head and sighs. "They're not my buddies, stop saying that shit. And I'm here because I wanna see how you're holding up. We didn't exactly leave off with you feeling all dandy, did we?"

He's not wrong, yesterday was hell, especially for a random guy to witness. What stumps me is why he feels the need to check up on me. Maybe it's because of his job.

"Well, I'm halfway through this lovely Friday shift and I've already planned several murders and committed them... in my head." I joke humorlessly. Brandon's eyebrows rise and I scoff. "Kidding, I'm kidding. I'm not a murderer. The only person I want to kill is myself," I huff out a laugh.

Brandon frowns. "That's not funny, Echo."

"Really? I found it hilarious."

The orders continue and Brandon's eyes never leave my figure as I dart around like a chicken with its head cut off. Nervously itching my arms from the weight for his gaze and the pressure of getting drinks out promptly. I'm not nearly as fast as my dad was, but I learned a thing or two watching him over the years.

After a few drinks are passed out, a disgustingly raspy voice is directed my way, "Hey, sexy." I twist to look at the grimy-looking old man, who's a hundred percent someone's grandpa, staring at my ass. "You got some nice buns on you, don't cha'?"