The Bartender

For My Own Peace of Mind

Camila stood behind the bar pouring Corona into three separate glasses. She hadn't talked to Shawn since her confrontation with him the day before. Part of her wished that she would've just let him apologize but a larger part of her was glad that she spoke her mind. Right now, though, as she stood right behind him in the bar, she just wanted to kiss him. His scent was overwhelming her but not in a bad way. It was the same scent she remembered savoring when she woke up in his bed the night after they met. She inhaled deeply as she held the handle to the beer tap down, filling the glass. She sucked in a sharp breath when she felt his strong hand rest on her lower back.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "Just didn't want to startle you." He reached forward and set a small bowl of sliced limes on her tray. He pulled his hand away and she immediately wished he hadn't.

"Thanks," she said quietly. It was a sweet gesture. Then again, it was also his job. She finished pouring the beers and took them to the table she had been serving without another word.

She could practically feel his eyes burning into her skin for the entire day. He didn't even care that she'd occasionally catch him staring. He'd just keep looking, sometimes he'd even flash her one of those signature charming smiles. They weren't the kind of smiles that made her feel like he only wanted back into her panties, though. They seemed genuine; they seemed kind.

They both got ready to leave at the same time that night. Camila was in the back pulling on her sweatpants when he walked over. He eyed her up and down curiously.

"Heat in your car broken?"

"No," she chuckled. "Well, actually yes. Probably." She grabbed her t-shirt and pulled it on over her skin-tight tank top. "I got in a small car accident on the way home from work yesterday. I'm fine, obviously...but my car was totaled. So I have to walk."

"What?" It came out louder than he meant it to. "You can't walk."

"Um, yes I can...?"

"No. It's late. I'm not letting you walk home alone in the dark. I'll drive you."

"That's not necessary."

"Yes it is."

"Shawn, I'll be fine."

"You don't know that, Camila," he said firmly. "Anything could happen. Just let me drive you home, at least for my own peace of mind." Camila sighed before reluctantly nodding. It was kind of sweet of him to be so protective of her. She crossed her arms out in front of her as they walked to his car. They were both quiet. She couldn't decide if it was awkward or not, though. Shawn finally spoke up as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Camila, I need to apologize to you." He was gripping the wheel tightly but not in an angry way. He was nervous. She didn't respond, she only looked over at him awaiting the apology. "I'm really sorry for...well, just for being an ass I guess. I shouldn't have yelled at you that day in the bar. I was emotional and dealing with some personal stuff but that's no excuse to be a dick. I do care about you...and you were never just a quick fuck." He said the last two words as if he was grossed out by himself. "I'm sorry for saying things I didn't mean. I'm sorry for being an asshole. And I'm sorry for hurting you just because I was dealing with my own shit. You didn't deserve any of that. I hate that there's this weird tension between us now...and not the good kind. I want to be able to call you my friend again. Because yes, I did also consider you a friend." He looked over to her. "I don't give nicknames to people who I don't care about, peach. I care about you and I'm sorry that I hurt you." Camila reached over and placed her hand on his wrist, pulling his right hand off of the wheel and squeezing it in hers.

"Shawn, I forgive you," she said sincerely. "I never meant for you to think I was...clingy, or whatever. I knew what happened didn't mean anything—"