warm water | dream x reader

one | you don't know my name yet

This is inspired by the song "warm water" by BANKS. give it a listen if you'd like :)

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The ear-splitting tone emits from my cell phone, pulling me out from my slumber. I roll over towards the device sitting on the wooden nightstand to my left. A low groan escapes my throat when I remember why the alarm ever went off in the first place. I reach for my phone and pull the screen to my face. The bright light absorbing into my eyes leaves them with a slight burn and causes me to squint. Fighting through the shock of it, I hit the snooze button to silence the speakers and toss the phone to the side to be lost in the sea of cloth. I released the air I didn't realize I was holding in until my lungs began to burn. I don't even have to glance back at my phone to see it's 5pm. The dreaded alarm that passes every afternoon at the same moment signifying it's time to force myself out of bed and get ready for my deadbeat job I leave to every single night. I had to remind myself that at least it was a Saturday and things would be busier than usual. Working at a bar has not only completely screwed myself out of a normal sleep schedule, but it's entirely ruined my perception of life.

It's only been a month since I've picked up my life and moved to Orlando. I thought starting over here was going to be my shot at forming a better life, yet here I was stuck living the same day over and over just like I did in my small town in Oregon. Except this time around I have no friends, a shitty apartment, and a job I hate even more than my previous. Granted, I had to take whatever work I could find when I first arrived to pay for my rent. If I try to look at the glass half full, I know I'm luckier than most when it comes to starting fresh somewhere new. I could be homeless on the streets with even less than what I have now. I should be grateful, but I really struggle to find the light in my situation. Maybe it's unfair of me to want to blame my workplace for my sour outlook on life, but if you saw half the things I did you would probably feel the same way.

Mostly, the regulars at work are no issue. It's always nice to exchange small talk and catch up with them about life. I enjoy them and their company; they are the ones that make the job bearable. The one thing that truly tears me apart about this line of work is having to deal with the drunks. For one, cutting them off feels almost impossible. They always beg for more, sometimes even getting violent. It's scary at times, but it's not even the worst of it. I blame myself for contributing to their addiction. It's so painful to watch them throw their lives away, yet I'm the one putting fuel in the fire. I know it's wrong to think that way. When you think about it, it's literally my job to serve them alcohol, but sometimes it truly dims my spirits. It hurts my soul to feed into someone else's problems.

Finally dragging myself out of the sea of sheets, I make the trek to my closet. I take out a plain pair of black slacks from the shelf and pull a white blouse off a hanger. This is the uniform I wear to every shift. There's countless copies of the same shirt and pants lining the inside of my wardrobe. At this point, it's almost the only clothing that exists beyond the doors. I force the white t-shirt over my head after sliding each of my legs individually into each pant leg. Pushing myself into my bathroom. I rest each hand on either side of the sink and raise my head to the mirror. I'm met with my own reflection. My messy hair shows my recent slumber, as well as the dark circles that sit under my eyes and against my skin. You can tell I don't get out much outside of work. In an attempt to fully wake myself up, I turn the faucet to cold and splash a handful of cool water onto my face. As much as I want to say it helped, it didn't.

 Continuing with my morning, well evening routine, I pick up my toothbrush from the side of the sink making sure to wet it before and after applying the toothpaste. Once done, I go in search of my phone. Unfortunately, in my situation I can't afford to buy myself my own car so I Uber to work everyday. Making my way into my room, I search through what feels like an endless amount of blankets before retrieving my phone from the mess. I open the Uber app to request my ride and then continue what I need to do before work. I jerk open my nightstand drawer to pull out a pair of socks before putting on my simple black tennis shoes. Finding myself with an excess amount of time before my driver arrives I pull out my phone to mindlessly scroll twitter until they pull into my apartment complex.

Some time passes before the notification from my Uber appears on my screen. I grab my wallet and apartment key before rushing out my front door. As always, I politely introduce myself to the driver as I enter their car. Not much ever occurs on these short rides to the bar. Sometimes we exchange light small talk and others are dead silent besides the hum of the music from the radio. I usually prefer those that are silent due to the fact I'm already going to have to talk to people all night. Luckily enough, that is exactly how this Uber ride went.

After about a 15 minute drive, I arrive at hell. The bright neon sign of Joe's Bar faces me through the car window. As I exit, I thank my driver, take a deep breath, and head for the entrance. Pushing my way through the doors, I let myself into the back. The system here at Joe's is older than dirt so we still have individual punch cards. I locate mine along the wall and punch it into the machine to check myself into the long shift ahead of me. 

Tonight felt slower than usual, for it being a Saturday at least. Regardless, I tended the bar as normal, serving drinks and creating small talk. It was nice to conversate with the regulars, as it always is; They seemed to be the only ones around tonight. With everyone taken care of for the time being, I preoccupied myself with washing and drying glasses even though there were plenty to go around. I may hate my job, but the one thing I hate even more is standing around and doing nothing. The ding of someone entering pulled my attention away from my current task. I hear them place themselves on a barstool. I call out to them as I'm still focused on finishing up the glass I'm currently working on.

 "I'll be with you in a moment," I hear a slight hum acknowledging my words. Once I place the glass in its rightful place I turn to face the new customer. When my eyes met his, it felt like all time stopped. This was someone I had never seen enter this bar before. I've never laid my eyes on a human so stunning: tan skin, piercing green eyes, and fluffy dirty blonde hair. Hoping too much time didn't pass, I quickly compose myself and snap back to reality.

"Hello, welcome to Joe's. I don't think I've seen your face around here before, what's your name?"

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so uhhh, it's been awhile since i've posted anything here. ive basically been mia for the past couple months, but im happy to say im back. if any of you are here from my other fic, what we could be, im glad your back to read this new piece im starting!! hope you are all doing well and you enjoyed this first chapter!! let me know your thoughts in the comments :) <3