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Mykie rolled her eyes and expected another butt-tap from Jezebeth to push her along, but Jezebeth took off to the other side of the bar once she saw how crowded her line was.
Mykie crossed over to her side of the counter again, addressing Renly.
"Jezebeth isn't going to be happy if you're sitting without a drink," she said, leaning on her hand and shooting him a conspiring grin. "As long as you have a glass in your hand, she'll leave you alone."
"I'll drink if you will." He grinned.
She smiled back. "Alright. Pick your poison."
He seemed to think for a moment before he settled on an option. "Something easy. Just Tequila."
Mykie's eyes widened a little. Straight Tequila wasnotan easy drink, but he picked it, so she poured two shot glasses full. While she did work in a bar, she wasn't one to drink a lot. Too many drinks made her a sloppy dancer. One shot couldn't hurt, right?
She placed the two shots on the counter and they both picked them up, clanking them together in a cheer before tipping the bitter drink down their throats.
"Another?" he requested.
Mykie nodded, barely keeping herself from coughing. She served up another two drinks and brought them over again.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go back upstairs to the safety of your friends?” she asked after another shot.
He looked up at the second floor for a moment before his eyes met hers, his expression set. “No, I think there’s more interesting things going on down here. I’ll catch up with them later.”
She shrugged. Maybe it was different with guys, but she’d liked to know where her friend disappeared to in an unfamiliar territory, if the roles were reversed.
"Don’t worry about it okay?” he smiled, placing a hand over hers on the counter. It made her shiver, not used to good touches at this time of night.
“Hey,” he said gently but loud enough for her to hear him, drawing her attention back to his face, “How about we used these shots to ask each other a question about the other?" Renly suggested, and Mykie found enough logic in that to agree.
It all devolved from there.
"When's your birthday?"
Drink.
"Got any pets?"
Drink.
"Craziest date you've been on?"
Drink.
One of the last questions Mykie remembered from the night was her asking again if his friends minded that he was sitting with her at the bar.
His answer?
"I'm more concerned about getting to know the pretty Cantil."
She couldn’t remember her answer, or if she answered at all. All that was familiar when she thought about that night was the growing warmth in her stomach and light green eyes.
Attracting Trouble
Mykie groaned, rolling over in bed as the sun shined in her eyes. She had dark curtains for that exact reason, so why was the sun coming through?
She was in an in-between state, still sleepy but slowly becoming more aware of her surroundings. The sheets were softer than the ones on her bed, and she could almost guess that they were silk. The room smelled odd but familiar, almost like a cologne that she'd smelled in passing.
Maybe Dexter changed the sheets in the spare bedroom? It was the only logical conclusion she could come up with so early in the morning.
