Page 7 of Here In Your Arms

I hope.

Wes

The construction site today is busy. We’re finally making some progress and there are beams stretching up in the air. It’s always satisfying to see progress when it feels like we’ve gone so long without any. The first part of the project is always tricky. You want to see results right away, but that’s not how it works.

“Hey! You done yet?” I yell at a couple of coworkers who are just standing around.

“What the hell do you mean? Of course we’re done!” one shouts back.

“I mean with your gossip hour. You guys look like a bunch of teenage girls giggling over there.” I laugh as I walk over.

“Fuck off!” one of the women jokes. “You’d know best!”

“You know it!”

“Got plans tonight?” someone else asks.

“Nah, you guys?” I reply.

“Some of us do, some don’t. Wanna head over to Jerry’s pub for a few drinks?”

“Sounds great. See you guys there!” I tell them.

We don’t have a ton of pubs in the area, so Jerry’s is a staple. I gather my shit and hop in my truck to drive across town to the pub. Once parked, I put on some additional deodorant, because physical work means I smell, then head in. Looks like a few of them have already grabbed a table, so I head over and grab a seat.

Appetizers appear, and we shoot the shit. My beer empties, and as I look around for the waitress, my eyes catch on the bartender. There are two of them, but I barely notice the guy because she has my full attention. Tall, long hair braided back, and green eyes crinkling with friendliness at customers as she chats with them while making her drinks.

My mind flashes back to the gym the other day and I’m wondering if this is the same girl that Kyle was staring at. She looks incredibly similar, but I didn’t exactly study her either, so I could be wrong. Plus, the odds would be slim for me to see her here, but I suppose it’s possible. Our town isn’t the size of Chicago, but it’s not tiny either. So slim odds, but not impossible. Nodding at the rest of the table, I get up to head over to the bar and ask her to make me a drink.

Yeah, I could wait for the waitress, but even if this girl isn’t the one from the gym, she is gorgeous, and I can’t keep my eyes off her. A stool vacates as I walk toward the bar, and I can see her up close. She’s chatting with customers, laughing with them, but I can see a heaviness there. She’s forcing it and I’m sure it’s her job to force it a little, but I’m curious what’s underneath. It looks like she’s struggling more than she lets on.

I steal the vacated stool and sit with my arms folded on the bar itself, staring like a total asshole. There’s a part of me that thinks I should stop staring, but I can’t do that. If she calls me on it, I’ll admit to it. Can’t help it, so may as well own it. She looks over at me and my heart about stops. Those green eyes see right through me, and there’s something sad there, hidden deep down. Not sure why I think that, but I do.

“What can I get you?” she asks, walking over.

“Your phone number,” pops out of my mouth before I can think.

She blinks at me, unimpressed. “My friend, if I had a nickel for every time someone used that line, I wouldn’t be working anymore.”

I tip my head back in laughter, happy she’s unphased by the cheesy line that escaped me. What a dick move on my part.

“I’m sorry, that was so cheesy of me, it just popped out,” I say, still chuckling.

She smirks at me and shrugs. “All good. What can I get you?”

“Draft seasonal beer?”

“Comin’ right up.” She walks away to pour my beer.

I’m impressed by her pour, but I suppose I shouldn’t be since she’s doing this for work. I have had bartenders fuck up the pour, so it’s a thing.

“Thanks….” I trail off, hoping she’ll provide her name.

“You’re welcome,” she says, the playful smirk back in place.

She knows I was going for her name and refuses to play. Well. Color me hooked. I’m aware that’s not really a phrase, but I’m making it one now.

I watch her serve a couple of other customers before I flag her down again.

---