runaway

ONE | LITTLE MINX

"Do you mind getting the new guy who just walked up while I get this group of girls?" he asks, to which she offers him a thumbs up in response before turning away, leaving the man to whom she was tending to his lonesome. With a longing look and a defeated sigh, the man reluctantly turns from the bar to engage with the crowd before the stage.

Jett sees the 'new guy' instantly, his body leaning against the bar a few feet to her left. An odd essence of familiarity overcomes her at the sight of his slender figure, a tattooed arm propped on top of the bar. Brunette hair is rigorously rustled, fringe tousled from continuously running his fingers along the frontmost piece to guarantee its being out of his eyes. Lips are tinged a subtle pink and lifted in a soft smirk. His cheekbones are intoxicatingly deep with faint stubble decorating.

He is a paradox of delicacy and strength, enticing and hindering, dangerous and oh so beautiful.

The stark blue of his eyes and strong British lilt sounding through "So, your name is Jett?" trigger her memory behind her recognition.

"You're a long way from home, sweetheart," Jett says, walking towards him, memories of one particular past indiscretion six months prior flooding her mind.

Emmett shrugs his shoulders. "Needed a change of scenery."

"And of all the places in the world, you chose Athens,?"

"Great minds think alike, I guess," he says.

"That they do." Jett smiles and slides a full glass before him much to his surprise, his having failed to notice her preparing the drink during their conversation. "Here you go. One vodka Redbull."

Immediately, the grandest smile forms along his lips. "You remembered."

Jett does not get a chance to respond before an echoing, "Holy shit!" sounds to her right.

"Well, if it isn't Emmett Hughes. What the fuck are you doing in Georgia, mate?"

Her coworker hurries towards them, the group of girls formerly being served becoming long forgotten once he somehow hears the sound of a familiar voice, one he had not heard for an excessive amount of time, over the obnoxious calls from all other persons seeking a drink in the crowded space. He pulls over the step stool, using it in his assistance in jumping over the bar much to the disapproving looks of those around him. He cannot be bothered in their slightest by their judgment, too fixated on pulling the other young man into a hug.

"I could ask you the same question, Young." Emmett's wide smile mirrors that of the other as the two embrace, the young woman temporarily forgotten. "When the hell did you get over here?"

"About six months ago, I think," Heitor says, not bothering to accurately count his time in the States. "It's so good to see you, man. How's everyone back home?"

"They're good!" Emmett says, ignoring the twinge in his heart.

"Oh!" Heitor suddenly exclaims, twisting to reengage the young woman still stood before them. "Jett, this is Emmett. We were neighbors growing up."

"Um, we're already proper acquainted," Emmett confesses, a dialectic mix of sheepish and smug.

Quite aware of his coworker's ways, Heitor does not bother to hide his amused look and accusing smile towards the culprit with an "Oh, really?"

Jett merely shrugs, utterly unfazed. "Remember that guy I told you about? Who I slept with the night before we met?" an inquiry to which he nods in confirmation. "Well," she tilts her head towards Emmett, "he's the guy."

Heitor's eyes widen briefly, mouth opening to form a silent "oh" as realization settles. His reaction is not mimicked by the third party, though, who opts to stare curiously with a rather cocky and proud smirk at the young woman.