Last First Kiss [Brallon+Completed]

2: Mr. Nameless

His smile hit me like a bus. Okay, that's a bit extreme, but close enough. I don't even know him, but his smile was crafted by the likes of God. Hi, I'm Dallon Weekes, and the only thing I've ever kept straight were my grades. Clearly, if I've already brought up how charming some stranger's smile is. You can't speak unless you've seen it, though.

Spencer works the entire joint (Spencer's Slammer) which is more of a sweaty cabaret with drag queens posing for pictures on the beat up stage in the corner. It was one of those clubs only really known by a certain crowd. Nobody could just show up in Black Hollows and know this place existed. You had to be associated with the right crowd to find the beat up place, at the end of the block, displaying nothing but the stench of week old alcohol.

It was more commonly known as The Slammer, the place made with creaky stools and dusty pool tables. Still, despite the rather bad condition of the place, it was a hit. I'd been to bars before, but as a college student, I don't get shitfaced too much. I have dreams. I could really only describe The Slammer as one of those saloons in those old western movies, since that's exactly what it looked like.

The only good factors about this place were the bands that often played on the small stage, the alcohol; which Spencer hired some pretty talented mixologists, I'll admit, and the cute boys who often walk around the place in tight shirts and shorts that showed off their ass. Desperate teens shaking to make it. It was depressing, but as I stated before, I liked their drinks. More specifically, the Pina Colada.

Only one person has ever prepared my Pina Colada the way I like it, and that one person was Spencer himself. I've tried other Pina Coladas, but they're just never as good. Which is why I was caught off guard when a Pina Colada (must I remind you I had just showed up, and had yet to order anything) was placed on the dusty table before me.

The glass created a disturbing sound, so I grimaced, naturally, and waved my hand to clear the dust it stirred up. Sure, The Slammer was a hit, but nobody cared enough about the place to keep it clean. The Pina Colada was an art, in a perfect clear glass. It had a slice of pineapple stuck perfectly on the rim, and was accompanied by a cute yellow umbrella with flip flop patterns on it.

"One Pina Colada for Dallon Weekes?" I wasn't expecting a deeper, growl of a voice. The voice was slow, and drawn out, as if already tired of the years of usage it'd been through. It was a bit raspy. It wasn't Spencer. I looked up to the tired waiter, and everything slipped into slow motion.

He was probably the most attractive person I'd seen. He was one of those people who was warm in a cold way. I knew from the look in his bronze-brown eyes. His lips were plump, and the shade of pink any girl would fantasize about having upon their own face. He was thin, but in a fit, athletic way. His jawline was defined, and his eyelashes were long enough to flutter. He had me at the word 'one', which was sad of me.

"Yeah, that's me. Um, I didn't order anything." I muttered, but leaned forward to guide the straw to my lips with my tongue. It was the most delicious thing I'd tasted. It didn't taste anything like Spencer's, it was more unique.

"Spencer sent me your way. He said you'd enjoy it. It's payed for, by the way." He muttered. I looked up at him, quirking my eyebrow. I tried to show as little disinterest as I could, but God, was he a beautiful specimen. I was surprised he wasn't a model in some big old city, instead of down here in Black Hollows (which isn't as badass as it sounds, trust me). I wasn't complaining, though.

"Did you make it?" I shot back, leaning back in my booth, lazily letting myself slump down. The beautiful waiter straightened up a little, as if confidence had seeped into his step. Good. If he made this, he really deserved it. "Yeah, I did. So I take it you like it?"

I nodded, and that's when the bus hit. His lips spread into a grin. This grin was innocent on the outside, but if you were to probe deep enough, you'd find a different person hidden behind it. I only know this, of course, because I'm the one narrating the story, I'm allowed to know things.

"Do I get to know your name?" I asked, curiously. His smile fell, into more of a surprised expression. His entire demeanor changed. He snapped. "No." Then he was gone. As soon as he hit me, he'd driven off, leaving me more of a mangled mess on the ground. I sighed, and returned to my drink.

I stayed at The Slammer until the early hours of the morning, waiting for Spencer to drag me back home after a long night of socializing. Hint the sarcasm; I don't necessarily do people. I'd do Brendon, though.

Throughout my time spent at The Slammer, I passed out in my lonely booth, an empty glass my only real company since Mr. Nameless had abandoned me so quickly. Spencer soon shook me awake, though.

"Dallon, buddy, get up." He shook my shoulder with no mercy, until I felt the urge to smack his hand away. I groaned and got to my feet, and found my waist greeted by Spencer. Ha, as if I was the drunk one. I had one pineapple Pina Colada made from God, but otherwise I'd slept.

"How was the Pina Colada?" Spencer asked, as he locked up the small bar, and buried his keys within his shirt pocket. I shook the sleep from my body, then shrugged as I trailed after him.

"No offense, but he makes Pina Coladas better than you do." I said bluntly, and Spencer stifled a laugh, patting my back affectionately. I gave him a half smile and shook him off. "No offense taken."

"What's his name?" It was worth a shot. Spencer glanced over at me, frowning slightly. I pushed aside my bangs, and turned to look straight forward as we struck up conversation. Black Hollows was completely silent at these early hours, and to help it come off as a ghost town, the climate was constantly misty and everything was fogged up. The day Black Hollows would see the sun would be a blessed day.

"He told me specifically not to tell you, Dal." I raised both of my eyebrows. Nice going, Mr. Nameless. I felt slightly offended. Maybe he'd said this towards anybody who'd asked him for his name, but I felt personally attacked. It's my selfish side. How shameful.

"Oh really?"

"You know, Dallon, you really shouldn't be getting involved with people like him," Spencer awkwardly trailed off as we came upon Black Hollows University dorms. I turned as we reached the door, so I could see Spencer. "Really? I'm an adult, Spencer. Twenty-three, to be exact." I reminded him. Spencer sighed, and pushed me softly towards my door.

"He doesn't deserve your attention. Get some rest, will you?" I gave up on that, and pursed my lips in disappointment. All I wanted was his name. Was there really anything wrong with that? My heavy feet carried me all the way up the stairs, and all the way to my dorm with some effort. I'd had enough time to evaluate things in the short period it took me to climb two flights of stairs to my dorm and I'd come upon a decision.

Not knowing the beautiful waiter's name was unacceptable. It only made me curious about him.

Spencer certainly didn't help, with how vague he was being about staying away from him. I wasn't gonna let Spencer distract me from a cute boy. Scratch that. A hot man, with a raspy, tired voice. Mr. Nameless. I wanted to know why the brunette was here in Black Hollows, when he could easily make it as a model, and be rich right now.

I fell down on my bed. I grew curious about a beautiful stranger with a beautiful smile and a cold attitude. Mistake number one.