Halfway

The Jukebox

Dedicated to Jebet_

"A shot of whiskey." Konnie gave a resolute nod, at the barman's raised eyebrow. It had a scar etched through the centre of the thick arch. "You know what, make it a double." She slapped the counter, determined to get wasted.

That'll show them. I can be wild.

"Do I need to book you a room now?" The barman, and what seemed to be owner of the empty motel, inquired. He crossed his muscular arms, the tight grey tee stretching across his torso. Konnie tried her hardest not to ogle. It was difficult.

"I've got a flat tyre ten minutes back. It's freakin' tippin' it down. And Aaron Kormack is a bastard. Give me some of that juice." Konnie glared at the man. He was unmoving, like a solid piece of hunky rock, all chiselled and slated. "Please?" She sighed. Resting her forehead on the ledge of the surface, her long blonde locks a veil. Both, to restrain herself from perusing the hottie's broad frame, and because she'd had a week from hell.

Of all the damn motels, it had to be the one with the responsible, broody bartender.

The subtle sliding of glass on wood, caused Konnie to peek up. The shot was an inch from her oval face, to the brim with brown liquid like deep honey.

That's the stuff. A smile threatened, tugging at her pink lips.

"One shot." The guy's rough voice warned.

With nimble fingers, Konnie lifted and chugged.

Then promptly choked.

"Gahh... That poison is foul!" She clawed at her throat as it seared straight down her esophagus. Gagging a little, when it diffused into her stomach, she held the back of her hand to her mouth.

Thank goodness no one saw that.

A hand swiped the glass back. "Your choice, Sweetheart." The tender condescend with a light chuckle.

Right, except for him.

"Konnie." Her attention fluttered to his face. Dark chocolate orbs glinted in humour. Loose curls, the colour of rust, tickling eyelashes.

Men should not have lashes like those. It's unfair and extremely dreamy.

The barman scratched at his scruff. "Uh, Derek."

Konnie observed as Derek wandered down the bar. His shoulders hunched over, the open flannel shirt flapping. Modelling faded blue jeans that clung to his thighs and ass.

"So where were you headin', Konnie?"

Konnie startled, "Um, Freisa Spa." She replied swiftly. "It was get pampered or get drunk. Fate chose for me." As if on cue, a heady buzz warmed her.

"On Valentines Day?" Derek returned with a gift.

"What's this?" Konnie wrinkled her brow.

"You'd think a girl would know a chocolate chip muffin when she sees one. It's on the house." Derek assured. "Uh... Happy Valentines?" He added.

Konnie snorted, "Valentines." Nonetheless she tore into the muffin. "Hmmm." With eyes closed, she savoured the taste. "This stuff is like butterflies, and pirouettes and rainbows."

"You're welcome." Derek chuckled again.

"Yeah, tell that to my thighs. I have a rule about mid-week bingin'. But I guess that doesn't matter anymore." Konnie pilfered another bite.

"I'm gunna hedge my bets, this has to do with Aaron Kormack." Derek perched on a stool opposite.

"Aaron, Greenbridge College of Dance, it's a toss up." Konnie's tongue loosened with the liquor. "You see Greenbridge says I have no inner spirit. That I don't qualify because I've gotta stick up my butt. Whilst Aaron, he needs somethin' up his asshole. Dumped me within the hour of the scholarship rejection."