Katie's Cafe

29

It's now been a whole week since I've seen or spoken to Tom, and it was really starting to sink in what a massive mistake I've made. This was a type of pain that I'd never had to experience before.

It really sucks if I'm honest.

I'd decided it was for the best to keep the situation with him to myself for now. All I'd told Hannah was that he was really busy with work at the moment.

She didn't have any reason to doubt that story at all with everything she'd seen on the news recently.

Hannah's managed to convince me to go out with her and a couple of her friends tonight. Quite possibly the worst idea she could've come up with to get me out of my own head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stay seated by myself, watching Hannah, Stacy and Megan all up dancing together. They look so young, happy and full of life. I, however, am sitting over here wallowing away in self pity like the ghost of Christmas past or something.

"Come on Sara, come over and dance with us. You used to love dancing," she pouts like a toddler.

"I did when I was getting paid a lot of money for doing it," I joke.

"You're no fun. Do you want me to get you another orange juice from the bar?"

"No, you stay up here. I'll go downstairs and grab us all some more drinks," I sigh and she goes back over to the dance floor.

The idea of her walking down all these steps alone when she's been drinking, and with those high heels on too gives me serious anxiety issues.

Once I'm downstairs, I get pissed off pretty quickly as the bartender seems to be completely ignoring this half of the bar where I am.

Of course my impatient arse decides to be rebellious, so I quickly hop over the bar and start serving the other people who have been waiting ages as well.

"Hi, what can I get you?"

"Can I get a cranberry sour?" a very tall, attractive redhead asks.

Fortunately for me, this wasn't my first time serving behind a bar, so I know how to make a pretty decent cocktail when the occasion calls for it.

Just because I'm not drinking it, doesn't mean I can't serve it.

"It's on the house," I smile politely.

"Really? Thank you so much," she smiles back and walks away.

I shadily grab a few more drinks and sneak away before the bartender notices me behind the bar. The last thing I want to do is get kicked out.

Hannah is having such a good time with her friends that she didn't even seem to notice that I've been gone all that long.

"Thank you!" she's grateful when I pass her the bottles I'd just swiped.

"I might nip back downstairs for a breather. It's a little too loud up here for me".

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'll see you in a bit, yeah?"

It doesn't make me feel any better being up there, surrounded by all those tipsy teenagers since my near miss with the bottle of vodka only a week ago.

The downstairs to this place however is more like a regular bar where the older crowd seem to be. The music down here isn't as rubbish as it is up there either.

"Oi, gorgeous," some random bloke says before he gropes my arse when I'm walking past him.

There's a moment, even in its slightest temptation, that I contemplate smashing my bottle of orange juice over his stupid head, but I manage to resist the urge.