My Nightmare Crush

28|| Sober heart

The barman gave him an annoyed glare. "You were making such a scene. What was I supposed to do, kid? I've told you already you can treat my costumers like that. She just keep calling so I took the chance. It's time for you to go."

"Brett." I called him gently, shy and unsure if this anger was about me being here or me seeing him like that. Very carefully I place my hand over his forearm on the bar. "C-come on, I'll take you home. Yes?"

His gaze fell there, hard, frowning but not pulling away. His skin under my fingertips was smooth and hot, probably from the overheat atmosphere in here. Tingles climbed my arm slowly. Then his eyes met mine again, softening. I took that as a good sign and squeezed a bit tighter, ignoring the narrowed eyes of the owner and silently praying for him to leave us alone.

The auburn stared at me with a weird expression, trying to read me through but then pouted like a child and shook his head. His attention back on the glass before him. "I don't want to."

There was a hint of vulnerability in his tone that sank into me, cleching my chest. I still yet to know the reason why he was here in the first place, but whatever it was it seemed to trouble him deeply.

"Bre-"

"Yes, you do." snapped the man shattering the small bubble we were in and making Brett glared at him again, tensed all over. "I've already told you to fuck off. Too many times. Don't make me call the cops. I don't need another teen's bravado display now."

Anger spiked in my belly, not liking one bit the way he was treating the boy beside me. It was clear something had happen before I arrived -whatever that teen's bravado display meant-, but whatever it was my insides ignited at how upset this man was making Brett.

So before he could deffend anything I turned toward my ex-friend and said: "He's not calling the cops."

"Oh?" the owner gave me a piss-off-look. "Am I not?"

"Go on." I shrugged, faking my conviction at their confused glance. "Call them. But as soon as they arrived they might want to know why did you sell alcohol to a minor."

The man's face fell as Brett barked out a laugh, "Isn't she clever?" he tried to down the already empty cup and frowned when he couldn't. "Fuck."

"Yeah, yeah, just take him home already." grumbled the owner, his face red -from anger or embarrasment?- as he finally turned to attend the other costumers. Finally.

With an eyes roll I snatched the glass from Brett and lowered it on my other side. "Hey-" but I cut him:

"You've drunk enough."

His arm stretched to take the cup back but I pushed it further out of his reach. His teeth clenched. "Alyson."

"No." I was glad my voice came out unwavered. "Come on, what's wrong with you?"

"That seemed to be the question, uh?" Almost instantly his mood shifted and my heart somersaulted as his eyes glimmered meetting mine. "I'm always fucking things up, ain't I?" I opened my mouth but was unable to form a word as he blinked rapidly and his voice broke; lowering his face, shoulders down. Was he about to cry? A sense of panic urged me to hold him and confort him but I folded my arms to prevent the sudden impulse.

"Brett-"

"Ain't I?" he insisted in that shattering tone I hadn't hear before in him and that broke my heart. His eyes flickered to my forehead and his hand shot up to touch the band-aid, startling me. "Does it hurt?"

I forced myself to swallow, shivers running down my spine at his smooth touch. "N-not anymore."

His brows pinched together, his hand slowly lowering back to his side, fist clenched. It baffled me the feeling of longing it left behind and how it nested in my chest. "I wanted to hit him, Lys."