Page 16 of Marked

She smiles as she takes it, then turns into the crowd and is swallowed by it.

I take the next orders, quickly making my way through the kids waiting for their drinks. Checking my watch, I sigh with some relief. Only an hour left of my shift.

The time sails by when it’s busy like this, and every Friday night is crazy. I love my teaching job, but I’ve only been on the payroll for three years. Not exactly high up on the pay scale. Working here over the summer helps pack away cash.

“What can I get you?” I ask, feeling someone step up while I’m cleaning some glasses.

“Whiskey.” A deep voice rolls over the bar, wrapping around me. A warm tingle runs through me.

When I look up, I confirm what my body already knew.

“Zack.” I smile before I can help myself. The pull this man has on me is unreal. It’s like his energy sucks me into him the moment he gets near me.

“Hey.” He grins.

“Sorry. Whiskey, you said?” I blink a few times after I realize I’m staring at him.

He just gives a little nod. I get his drink for him and put it on the bar.

“Are you here with anyone?” I ask, looking for a group of friends maybe, or a girl. What if he’s with a girl?

The stab of jealousy surprises me.

“No.” He lays a fifty down on the bar and slides it to me. “Keep the change.”

“That’s too much. I can’t.” I pick up the bill.

“You can. And you will.” He arches that eyebrow again.

I keep quiet while I tap the transaction into the iPad.

“What brings you here then?” I look behind him to be sure there’s no one waiting on a drink. It’s starting to slow down now that it’s almost closing. The college kids have filed out to find abar that’s open past two, and the regulars are starting to pour themselves into cabs to roll home to sleep it off.

“You.” He takes a small sip of the whiskey.

“How’d you know I work here?” I tilt my head. “Are you following me again?”

He laughs.

“I’m really good at getting information I want,” he says.

“And you wanted to know where I work?”

“I want to know more than that, but I figured I’d do the normal thing and let you tell me.” He winks and takes another sip.

The last time a man winked at me, I was serving him a cup of coffee at the professors’ luncheon my senior year. He thanked me with a pinch on my ass and a wink.

No one noticed.

He winked a second time when I walked past his table with a tray of cheesecake slices and asked me for more coffee.

When I returned with a freshly brewed pot of coffee, the woman sitting next to him asked for a cup as well. I shook my head at her and moved his cup to the edge of the table so I could get a good pour. And then, I poured the pot of piping hot coffee into his lap.

He screamed and bolted up from his chair, knocking it and me out of the way. I only got to spill half the coffee on him, but he still went home with fresh burns to his thighs.

I lost my job.

It was worth it.

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