Jðkêr//Är†hµr x RêåÐêr ïmågïñê§ & ðñê-§hð†§

• Give The Guy A Drink

"Carrie!" You swat her with the towel, irritated now. "Shut up! I'm not into him okay?"

That was sort of the truth. You hadn't actually paid that much attention to the cardigan wearing, bookish-looking, laughing guy.
You'd seen him carrying a journal. Like, who did that?
He wasn't exactly your type. But then again you always seemed to be attracted to the wrong type of guy.

Like Steve. Your ex. He looked great, but was a total asshole. Too full of himself and a complete liar and a cheat.

Those kind of guys who were attractive and knew they were, always caused heartache in the end. So perhaps it wouldn't be a terrible idea to date someone more sensible and shy next time. Rather than another smart-mouthed, macho jerk.

You go back out to collect the glasses from another freshly vacated table.
No tip, which was hardly surprising.
No doubt the laughing guy had killed the atmosphere, as a few parties had made their way to the exit. Thankfully at least it was nearing the end of the night.

As you go from table to table, collecting as many glasses as you can you suddenly spot him coming through the backstage door.

Shoulders sagging forward, his slumped posture seemed to reflect defeat. He looked sad and miserable and it made your heart pinch with sympathy for him.

And then without thinking you were suddenly approaching him. As if your legs made the decision all by themselves and your brain had no say in the matter.

"Hey." You give a friendly smile. What was you even going to say? Shit. You wanted to ask him if he was okay but couldn't bring yourself to do it. "Would you like a drink? It's on the house."

The man blinked at you as he nervously clutched his precious notebook to his chest. "Me?"

"Yes you." You couldn't help giggling. "All the acts get a free drink."

That was a lie but you didn't care. Shit, even you could use a drink after that performance so you figured he'd sure as hell need one.

"O-oh. Okay." He replied timidly, slowly following you back to the bar.

Carrie raised an eyebrow in amusement as he took a seat at the bar.
Hurrying round you whispered quickly to her, "Not a word. I just want to give the guy a drink that's all. I think he deserves it. That crowd was brutal."

"Sure whatever." She replied with a wide grin.

Turning back to the man you plastered on your best welcoming smile. "So what's your poison?"

His dark brows furrowed in bewilderment. "Poison?"

You kept smiling patiently. Ever the professional bartender. "What would you like to drink, sweetie?"

A hot flush stained his cheeks, turning his face dusky. He clearly didn't receive many terms of endearment.

"Oh I'll have anything. I don't mind." He said shyly.

"Woah, okay then. Let's see...."  You turned and grabbed a bottle of clear liquor and poured it into a glass. "There you go."

"Thanks." He muttered.

He was staring at you now. A bashful smile curling his lips. His bright green eyes were so beautiful. Mesmerising even, and it took a great amount of effort for you to tear your gaze away.

"So what's your name?" You asked, feeling a little churned-up due to his intense eye contact.

"Arthur. What...what's your name?"

"(y/n). And it's nice to meet you Arthur."

"Likewise (y/n). Uh, so...did you...did you like my act?"

You force a tight smile, not wanting to crush the guy by being brutally honest. He looks at you all cautious and hopeful, so to avoid causing him further suffering you lie as convincingly as you can.