Shots. (Watty's 2017)

Old crush, burning desire. *~ (original)

"--strip club." Was all I heard as the boys talked. I had been spacing out, driving around. "Andrew, what do you say bud?" I snap from my thoughts and glanced at my friend Caleb. "Wait what?" Only to realize I hadn't payed a bit of attention to Caleb and Dylan's conversation about where to go on a Saturday night.

Dylan laughed, snorting a bit. "Our boy hasn't gotten laid in months. He probably doesn't go to strip clubs." I felt my jaw flex in irritation, rolling my eyes.

Me and my girlfriend broke up about three months prior, I wasn't thinking about dating again. "I know of one where they say the bar tender is so hot. She can make any drink better than sex." Caleb said, so I followed the directions he gave.

The club was dim lit, lazer lights flashing all over a dance floor that played house music. I grumble taking a seat at the bar, the boys order their drinks and walk off to mingle with chicks. "What'll it be sweetcheeks?" I look up to see cleavage, a bird peeking under the halter top. Before I could look at her face, she straightened and turned around. My eyes went down over her back, covered by her long hair. Her waist was slender, and curved perfectly to shape her bottom in a pare of light stone washed jeans.

She was fixing a drink and turned around, her stomach was almost flat, aside from a light pooch like she kept her figure great. "Here, you look like a Jack and Coke kind of man." She'd say handing me the drink before looking over to check the other two girls. "What's eating ya?" She'd ask, as my eyes were glued on the bar.

I sighed and looked up, realizing who it was that was talking to me. "Well, I'll be damned." I blinked, making her tilt her head. "I'm sorry?" she trailed off, before looking up and seeing an almost fight break out between a bar tender and customer. "Hold on." She'd say before going to handle the situation.

Tricia Brannon, I couldn't believe our paths crossed again. She looked hotter than I remember. I sipped at my drink as a bouncer removed the asshole who was trying to cause trouble.

She came back over and sighed. "I'm so sorry about that, some jerks can't read." She'd say pointing to a sign that said: bartenders are not strippers, don't touch!

I shrugged, glancing from the sign to her. "You don't remember me do you?" I asked, feeling a nervous feeling. It felt strange to feel nervous, I never got nervous.

She tilted her head, seeming to study my face. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't say I do." I took a breath in, feeling a sting from her innocent words. "Do you remember an Andrew Davison?" She seemed to think for a moment and blinked at me. "No way, he used to be one of my best friends growing up. I haven't heard that name in so long." She seemed to look sad. "So you do remember me?" I asked again, getting a surprised look.

"No way, Andy?" She used the old nickname she gave me. I felt a sense of butterflies, as I nodded my head. "Yeah, I haven't seen you in so long. What happen?" I said, wanting to hug her. She simply smiled and shrugged. "Life happened. I met a really nice guy, got married. He went off to war and died, sadly. So I decided to take up bartending, figuring it'd be better than being an alcoholic." She shrugged, before others started hollering. "Hey, I'm off in an hour. I'm sure your buddies won't miss you, how about we sneak out?" She'd ask, and I nodded. "I'd like that." I'd respond, feeling a sense of excitement.

--

An hour passed by relatively quick, and we were walking through a near by park. I noticed her shiver and took my jacket off. Placing it on her shoulders, I seen a smile sneak onto her face. "Thanks." She mumbled, and I realized I hadn't felt this way in so long. "I forget how hot it gets in the club." I seen her blush, and I wrapped an arm around her.

It felt natural being near her, like nothing had changed in almost fifteen years. We sat on a bench and she laid her head against my shoulder. "So tell me, what have you been up to?" She asked, noticing and tracing her finger over the tattoo on my arm.