“Can I get two Yuenglings, and if my friend asks for a shot, can you under pour it? He’s a messy drunk, and I really don’t want him to puke in my car…again.”
He laughs, and I trade him my card for the beers.
“I haven’t seen you out here before. Is it your first time at Working Class?”
“Yeah, I have a few coworkers who have been raving about the place, so my buddy and I decided to try it out. See if it’s worth the hype.”
“Well, I clocked in about thirty minutes ago, but it seems like it’s going to be a pretty chill night. Hopefully, it lives up to the expectations.”
As I walk towards the back room, I sneak another glance at Nick, but he is typing on his phone, not giving me any more attention. When I get to Wes at the dart boards, he has already warmed up and is ready to ‘kick my ass’. I watch as he sinks a dart dead center on the bullseye and laugh as the next one doesn’t even make it on the board. One of my favorite things about Wes is that no matter what he is doing, he is going to have a goodtime, which inherently makes the people around him have a good time.
I’ve been nursing my drink, so by the time I finish my one beer, Wes is on his third. If he’s just drinking beer, we’ll be fine; he only gets messy when he mixes it with liquor. It’s funny because his aim doesn’t get any better despite an hour of playing. Realizing that I’m getting tired of darts and increasingly concerned about Wes' wandering aim, I suggest we go back up to the front.
As we walk towards the bar, Wes nudges me. His weight on my arm makes me think that he is falling over, but when I reach out to stabilize him, he is paying no attention to me, instead he is staring at someone sitting at the far end of the bar. His face is full of curiosity. “Boss, isn’t that your girl?”
My girl? What does he mean my girl?
I follow his view and see a curvy girl leaning over the bar to talk to Nick. From this angle, her full hips are on display, straining against a pair of denim cut-offs, and my mouth literally starts to water. It isn’t until she turns her head that I see that it’s Ellie sitting there beaming. Her smile is infectious, and when she tosses her head back, laughing with her whole body, I find myself frozen. Her cheeks are flushed as she sips on her drink. Any and all words are lost in my throat, and all I can do is stare.
“Dude, I think the bartender is flirting with her?” I don’t realize how awkward I must look until Wes pats my shoulder aggressively. “Don’t worry, I got you.”
He says it like he’s ready to defend my honor, so I hold him back before he can try. Wes might be a little dramatic at times, but he is a great friend. There are very few people who I would do anything for, and I know that Wes feels the same about me.
“Calm down, bud. That’s her best friend. She’s probably just here hanging out. Let’s sit over here, so we don’t bother her.”
“You don’t want to bother your own girlfriend? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” And before I can stop him, he slips out of my grip and starts walking over to Ellie. I have no idea what he’s saying to her, but I hate that he is bugging her. After a minute of back and forth, she leans over to say something to Nick and then starts walking my way.
Fucking christ.
Reaching up to touch my face, I find myself grateful that my jaw hasn’t fallen to the floor.
It was hard to fully grasp when she was sitting down, but she looksstunning. She is wearing a tight, little tank top that is straining against her breasts. In this moment, it makes complete sense why she doesn’t wear tight fitting clothes at work because she is fucking irresistible. If guys are already acting like creeps, I can’t imagine how much worse it could get.
Also, I’ve never seen her in shorts, and I don’t think I will be able to get rid of the image burned into my brain. Her thighs look so soft and thick, and I can’t stop thinking about how my head would look between them. I can feel myself getting turned on, and I need to find a way to calm the fuck down.
Ellie stops directly in front of me, spinning her straw in her almost empty drink. She’s standing so close that I can see downher shirt, so I use some of my very limited willpower to look at her face. It barely helps when she looks up at me with her big brown eyes. She stands on her tippy toes, leans in closer, and whispers, “Hi. Uh, Wes said that I should hang out with you guys tonight, and I didn’t know what to say. I figured it would be weird if I said no. Is that okay?”
Backing out of my personal space, she looks up at me apologetically, and I have never wanted to cause Wes harm until right now. Of course, he would suggest that she hang out with us. Wes has been attempting to be my wingman for years, and he finally has the opportunity.
The options move back and forth in my head. While I don’t want to make her do something she doesn’t want to, I have to trust that if she wasn’t okay with hanging out, she wouldn’t ask.
“Yeah, of course. I’m more than happy to be graced with your presence tonight.” I reach out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, cherishing this opportunity to be close to her. “Honestly, Wes was getting a little boring, so I’m glad you showed up.”
Her smile gets big, and, without warning, she pulls me in, wrapping her arms around my waist. There’s a growing heat where her body meets mine, and it stuns me, feeling more right than I can understand.
She starts to back away before I have a chance to react to her touch. As she does, she mumbles quietly, “I’m sorry. I thought you said I didn’t need to ask before I—”
Without hesitating this time, I pull her back into me, one hand low on her back and the other around her shoulders. “Don’t apologize, El. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all.”
She relaxes into me, and I place a small kiss on the top of her head. She smells like flowers and fruit, and it is more intoxicating than the alcohol in my system.
I hold her tight until I realize that I am still a little too excited from when she was strutting over to me. In my own embarrassment, I let her go and look down at her. Her cheeks are flushed, and I don’t know if it’s the drinks or the physical contact. Either way, I’m glad that I’m not the only one feeling flustered in some capacity.
When I look around, I see that the bar is busier than when we first came in. Most of the barstools are full, and almost all of the tables are taken. I scan the room for Wes, but Ellie sees him first, grabbing my hand to drag me along. Her touch is gentle and soft, and I’m feeling grateful about the unexpected time we get to spend together tonight. I’m loving how comfortable she is with showing PDA, but I’m worried that my brain is not going to be able to separate these feelings.
We find Wes sitting at a four top with a new beer for me and another drink for Ellie. I pull out the seat for her, and she does the cutest jump to get up.
“Wow, what a gentleman!” Ellie flirts and adds a wink.
