this ....is SO long. i think it's the longest thing i've ever written lol so i hope you guys enjoy it. please comment and vote, it means the world to me and keeps me motivated to write more ❤️
btw the pic is the sweater he wears :)
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"Oh my God, if he doesn't get up from the fucking ground I'm going to..."
Scarlett didn't get the chance to finish her threat, her words trailing off in a slur as she narrowed her eyes angrily at the television that was hung above the bar. Her elbows were propped on the countertop, one hand loosely wrapped around her half-downed glass of vodka, and there was a flush to her cheeks that would have almost made her look ethereal under the fluorescent lighting if it wasn't for the fact that it was induced by the alcohol polluting her veins. She huffed in exasperation and shot her gaze towards the bartender who had been subject to the multitude of insults she had been throwing at the football players on the screen for the past hour.
"What a prick, amirite? He's totally milking it!"
The poor guy could only nod in response, his hand busy working a towel over a dirty glass to clean it. He had found her amusing and even quite cute when she had first plopped onto the bar stool, a beautiful brunette whose thick curls bounced in unruly ringlets down the length of her back. She had bit her cheek and curled her full lips into a smile, eyes round as she asked him to get her a drink; he had been happy to serve her, but as one shot of vodka turned into several and her soft voice grew louder and her eyes glossy, the flirtatious grin he had been wearing fell into an annoyed purse of his lips.
"Yeah," he spoke dryly and sighed. Setting the cleaned glass into the sink, he stood in front of her, head blocking her view of the game, and leaned his palms on the edge of the counter. "Look, doll, do you have someone to come pick you up? I think it's time you get home."
Scarlett brushed off his comment, instead furrowing her eyebrows as she poked her head to the side in attempt to see past him. Her lips puckered into a frustrated pout. "Excuse me, I'm trying to watch something here," she grumbled.
"You need to get home," the bartender repeated dully as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have a cell on you? Do you want me to call a friend or maybe a relative to come pick you up?"
It wasn't often that he had to be forceful with customers after they'd drank too much, and it definitely wasn't often that it was a beautiful girl who was the one he was asking to leave. Maybe part of him was still charmed by the brightness in her eyes and the pink of her lips that was glossed over from her drink- he wanted her to leave him the fuck alone, but he also wanted to see to it that she made it back home safely.
"Cell phone," he said again when she didn't answer him. Scarlett finally flickered her eyes up at his firm face and smoothed her tongue across her lips. "Do you have one with you?"
"Mayyybe," she sang lowly, arching her brow. "Why should I..." Scarlett lazily rose her hand and reached over the counter to his chest, poking it with her index finger. "Give it to you?"
"Because I'll move out of the way so you can watch the game again."
That seemed to do the trick. She reached into her pocket and huffed as she slipped out her phone, handing it to him.
"Thanks," he muttered. He moved out of the way as promised and Scarlett's eyes instantly darted back to the football game.
The thing was, she really didn't even care for football, but the vodka had somehow turned her into a fan for the night. In the back of her mind, as she watched one of the players attempt to kick the ball toward the goal, a fuzzy memory of sitting curled up on his couch while a Manchester game was playing, taunted her against her will. Her nose had been scrunched up in confusion as she pestered him with questions through the entire thing- what are they wearing such short shorts for? Aren't they cold? Is there even an end to this damn game? He had laughed at her for being so damn clueless, and as she sat there on the bar stool now, Scarlett couldn't say that she had learned anymore about the pointless sport since then.
