After Life

26

I sighed loudly, wiping my hands on the towel I kept hanging from my back pocket. My feet were throbbing, practically screaming profanities at me to let them out of my shoes and into a hot bath. I felt sweaty and sticky and gross, my hair limp against my forehead. My eyes were tired and sore, and all I could think about was my bed.

It had been a long night. A very, very long night. The hectic and insane pace had continued until almost thirty minutes ago, when things seemed to die down. The snow was continuing to fall, and it seemed as though people were starting to consider making their way home before they found themselves trapped in the bar from the increasing height of the snow drifts.

The chatter remained, the bar still busy, but not nearly as full. It was currently the state I had expected it to be when agreeing to do the shift for Stacy. Busy, but not the usual frantic pace of a Friday night. I didn't usually work Fridays, and after tonight, I remembered why. Granted, the tips were great, my little bin almost over flowing, but I was much more tired than I had been after a shift in ages.

Grabbing the cloth from under the bar, I started to wipe down the surface since I had a little reprieve for the moment. I hated mess, even if it was just condensation on the bar. It was a beautiful wood top, and I didn't want the circles of water to leave rings, marking it forever.

I was only half way through when Michelle came up, leaning on the bar.

"Oh my fucking God, I can't feel my feet," she muttered, her dark hair spilling over her face as she leaned her head on her arms as they crossed over the bar. "Which is probably good, because I'm pretty sure they're bleeding"

I snickered, finishing up with my cleaning. "I feel the same. Remind me never to do anymore favors for Stacy,"

Michelle snorted, lifting her head. "I didn't think you would need a reminder for that, but sure, I will remind you next time you show up here after agreeing to work for her."

I gave Michelle a glare, sticking my tongue out at her, just as a body slid into the bar stool in front of me.

"Evening," the accented voice chimed, causing me to look up. Immediately, I smirked.

Yup, Harry was drunk. His face was flushed, his hair sticking around his head in a brown halo. His green eyes were glazed, his smile slightly lopsided.  He looked hilarious and adorable.

"Its actually after midnight, Harry," I corrected. "So its morning now."

His lips pulled down into a confused frown, glancing at the watch on his wrist.

"Huh," he muttered. "So it is."

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me, shaking my head at him as I tossed the cloth in my hands back under the bar.  Looking over to Michelle, I noticed the smile on her face as she met my gaze. Her brown eyes flickered to Harry, then immediately back to me, giving me a knowing look. In turn, I glared at her, causing her to snicker, push herself up, and venture further down the bar and out of ear shot.

The last thing I needed when dealing with a drunk Harry was a nosey coworker asking how we knew each other. He was tumultuous at the best of times, and I could only imagine out volatile he could be when tipsy.