Delude | h.s.

one

We'll be alright
Stay here sometime
This country dog
Won't die in the city
Tailwhip - Men I Trust

♤

Layne

The night is alive. People are moving past each other like liquid matter. They come up to the bar asking for drinks. Their skin is flushed red, their eyes following suit. Their smiles are wide, excited for where the night will take them. They leave money on the bar for me to take, not expecting any change, the alcohol making them kindly careless. The seats at the bar are filled with constant chatter. The counter is drowning in temporary happiness as drinks are being made. The atmosphere is filling with anticipation as a band soundchecks on stage.

It's my first night, I'm a fast learner and the energy of the bar is helping me relax a bit. I fill four glasses with beer from the tap and slide them to the group of men sat in front of me. One of them slaps a twenty on the counter, raising their glass to me as a thank you. I nod, reaching for the cash and taking it to the register. Once the transaction is finished, I take the change to my jar under the counter – that's what I've messed up on most tonight: putting my tips in my jar rather than in my back pocket.

I used to work at a coffee shop, so when I applied to Jack's Bar, I figured it would be relatively the same – the only difference being the drug I'm serving people. After I graduated college this wasn't exactly the plan I had for myself but oh well, shit happens.

I worked earlier this week when the bar was slow. Nicole, the manager, trained me how to make nearly every drink under the sun for hours on end. She is a very sweet, middle-aged, southern woman. She is no taller than five feet and has a fake tan that is only slightly noticeable. She always wears eyeliner and pink lip-gloss. She is constantly cracking jokes. I took a great liking to her after my first training shift and I think it went both ways – she hugged me when I came in for my second shift.

"Layne," Nicole calls out from the register at the end of the bar.

I stand to my full height, my eyebrows raised letting her know she has my attention.

"I need a jack and coke for the gentleman who just walked in, please," she smiles.

I nod and take down one of the glasses above the bottles of liquor. I make the drink quickly and when I turn around, there is a man sitting where the group of men just were, and he's staring at me. His eyes lock on mine and I stop in my tracks.

He has dark, curly hair that is effortlessly pushed back from his forehead, only a few strands hang down. His eyes are so vibrant yet extremely intimidating, his eyebrows furrowed together. His jaw is set tight, clenching every now and then. His lips are pressed in a firm line.

He is insanely attractive.

I blink myself back into work-mode and step forward, grabbing a martini napkin and place his drink on the counter.

After I put his drink down, I look back at his face. He squints his eyes at me in thought. His stare is so intense, I feel like I can't move – like I have to wait for his word to let me go back to work.

He wets his lips before he speaks, "You're new."

His words are short, curt, factual.

He must me a regular for him to notice that so quickly. I give him a small smile, "Yeah, I started earlier this week. I'm Layne."

His gaze travels down my body, taking in what's in front of him. Ever so slowly, he drags his eyes back to my face. He doesn't say anything, just hums in response. Then, he brings his glass to his lips and downs the entire thing.