My Nightmare Crush

28|| Sober heart

The moment I crossed the doors I was greeted by the strong scent of humanity and alcohol. Amazing. The very next thing I noticed was how hot it was in here, I felt the heat priking my cheeks suffocatingly so I opened my coat while glancing around looking for the reason I was there this late. Over all the tipsy people, loud chats and chuckles and the beaming beat I finally spotted the auburn head I was looking for -even tho with this lame lights it looked bright red.

Brett was on one of the stools at the bar, his head low on his bent arm while his other hand fiddled with an empty cup. Just great. The familiar feeling of nerves spike in my stomach. Swallowing, I made my way there while listing what should be my greetings. Each step I took my mind raced, analysing if I was more worried he was like this on a week night or annoyed by this whole situation.

First when I got the call in my chest grew the sudden need to go get Brett and made sure he was taken care of. That instinc, tho, found a high rival with my common sense that's been screaming at me to let some adult take responsability of this and not get involved. What if Brett got himself drunk on a random bar -luckly not that far from my work place- uh? What is it to me?

Apparently a lot more than I was gonna let myself believe. The mere thought of going home knowing he wasn't in his best state out there got my stomach curling, so I was left with no more option than go make sure myself he was fine.

Now, I could only cringe at the looks of this den. Certainly wasn't on my top ten sites to spend a Monday night... more likely in the top five worsts.

My gaze travelled from Brett's back to the piercing eyes of the man behind the bar, standing by him. He was a robust middle age man with a grumpy exterior, bald but with a proud beard; bulky arms folded over his chest as he watched me approach with a frown. He was saying something but I couldn't heard it, whatever it was Brett remained curled over the bar, lazyly fiddling with the glass. Something about his defeated form made a pang of sadness spread in my chest.

The barman's eyes didn't leave me as I crossed the distance, fully unbottoning the coat at the dense heat in this closed place. Here goes nothing. Gulping the knot in my throat I carefully stood next his stool, not in his personal space but close enough to be heard over the beaming surrounding. "Hi."

It was then that Brett's body stiffened, almost as if I pressed a button and rose his head from the bar, scowling at me baffled and making my guts churned further. His vivid eyes scaned me up and down, like making sure I was really there. Judging by the hint of dizziness in them I immediately knew he had too many drinks.

His lips parted in shock but nothing came out and it was the man, instead who returned the greeting. "Alyson, right? We've spoken over the phone."

I nodded but it was then that Brett's eyes swirled in anger and confusion and turned towards the man. "You called her?"

His disbelieve faded into rage at his plain: "Yes."

"You got no right!" his hands clenched the border of the counter in anger. Yep, maybe this wasn't a bright plan after all.