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“Fuck.”
Breathing hard and fast, I resisted redialing her number and giving her exactly what she wanted. The only way I was able to stop myself from doing just that was the knowledge that while she might want me, she certainly didn’t need me.
Not now.
Not yet.
Not at all if I couldn’t get a handle on myself.
2
Serving Pints and Pricks
AOIFE
Ending the call, I shoved my phone into the front pocket of my black apron and shook my hands out, desperately trying to get a handle on my emotions before they got the better of me.
One whole week had passed since I landed on Joey’s doorstep on New Year’s Eve, and I was still a walking mess because nothing had changed.
We were still over.
He was still gone.
I was still shredded.
Keep it together, Aoife.
You’re at work.
You can cry when you get home.
Don’t you dare embarrass yourself!
Refusing to give in to the overpowering urge to slump in the corner of the smoking area and rock myself, I pushed my shoulders back, tipped my chin up, and sauntered back to the bar. I might be crumbling to pieces on the inside, but I would do it with dignity, dammit.
He’s just a boy.
Just one boy.
You can survive this.
“Mind the bar,” Julie muttered, skulking past me when I returned to my post. “I’m going for a ciggie.”
Since turning eighteen last September, I’d stepped in enough times behind the bar and pulled enough pints to know my way around a tap. When the orders started trickling in, I handled them with ease, flirting and smiling and sticking out my chest, like the pro I was.
Unfortunately, one of those orders just so happened to come from a man who made my skin crawl.
“Jameson straight, no ice,” Joey’s father demanded from his perch at the bar.
Forcing myself to keep my smile in place, I quickly set to work on preparing his drink, forcing myself to repress a shudder when I felt his eyes on my back.
“What?” Teddy taunted when I set his drink down on the beer mat in front of him. “No sweet talk for me?”
“That will be three euro please,” I replied, jaw aching from the effort it was taking to keep my smile in place.
Reaching into his jeans pocket, he grabbed a fistful of loose change and smacked it down on the counter in front of me, causing pennies and coppers to spill everywhere. “You can count, can’t ya, girl?”
“I sure can,” I replied, unwilling to let him entice me into an argument, as I used my finger to slide the coins toward me. “Enjoy your drink.”
