Happy Hour (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 14

I'm not sure my frazzled nerves can take this.

I've been in the pub half an hour and I feel like I'm losing my mind. Working in such close proximity to my teenage dream is making my brain fuzzy and affecting my ability to speak.

It all started when I first walked in at 5.25.

I thought I was safe, that he wasn't here yet. I greeted my colleague Keith who was just about to finish shifts and waved over at the other couple of co-workers who were in for the long haul like me, and took off my jacket. I turned back around to the bar, blood pumping, and took advantage of it being quiet to place my hands against it, close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"It'll be okay," I whispered to myself. "You can do this."

I opened my eyes to see Chris sitting at one of the tables directly opposite the bar. He was watching me, his eyes opaque and his mouth set in a straight line. He'd clearly been waiting for me. Fuck. "Oh, hi," I said unenthusiastically.

He didn't say anything for a moment and then walked over to me. "Having a moment?" He asked coolly.

"Just a pre-work meditation ritual," I lied, crossing my fingers behind my back. "Telling myself if I can get through this, I can get through anything."

"Interesting." It was impossible to know what he's thinking. "Well, I'm here and ready for you to show me the ropes."

"Great." I was going to have to feign enthusiasm here. "Okay, let me take you through some general housekeeping first and then we'll get into the shadowing stuff."

"Shadowing stuff," he said slowly. He looked up and met my eyes and, much to my surprise, that apparently easy smile spread across his handsome face. "Is that the technical term?" He asked, laughter evident in his voice.

"Oh, shut up!" I had lightly swatted his arm despite myself, thrown even more off course by the smile. Remembering what that smile had preceded the last time it happened. I met his eyes briefly then quickly looked away. "Let's get on with this."

And that had set the tone for the next half hour. It is now nearly 6pm and I'm ready to jump out of my skin with nerves. While Chris, annoyingly, is cool as the proverbial cucumber. His eyes follow me attentively though, apparently keen to learn.

He tells me he has had plenty of bar experience in the past, both in Scotland and abroad, so his knowledge is already pretty good. Which is a relief to me as it means it's more just experience specific to this particular pub we need to get him up to speed on. My head is all over the place though: I'm not really used to training folk anyway but Chris' close proximity is making me forget simple sentences and stumble over my words.

At one point, I pause to gather my thoughts in the middle of a spiel about the menu and I suddenly feel a hand touching my arm. It's surprisingly warm this time and I look up at Chris in astonishment.

"Relax," he says. His eyes have a softness to them I haven't seen before. "I don't bite." His voice lowers further. "Unless you want me to," he chuckles.

That noise, combined with the eye contact, sends a shiver down my spine that I can't actually control and I know that I visibly twitch at the whole lethal combination. Heat floods my entire body.

He steps back quickly and, much to my shock, I can see a flush spread along his model-like cheekbones. He looks completely unsettled and looks away, running a hand through his short-cropped hair.

"So, um, remind me what the vegan options are again," he says huskily, turning his attention back to the menu on the bar in front of us.

After that he's on his best behaviour. He pays rapt attention to everything I say, doesn't make any sarcastic comments, and basically doesn't act . . . Well, like Chris. Which almost confuses me more but I get into my stride finally and am able to actually almost forget that it is Chris.

At around half eight I check the time and decide it's time for a break. I don't want to leave Chris himself on his first night so I call over to one of the other staff members, Lauren, to say we're both taking a break and can she cover for us. I turn to him.

"You get 20 minutes, you can help yourself to anything non-alcoholic on draft if you need a drink, I'll get you back here at ten to nine." It all comes out in a rush without me looking at him once. I grab my bag and go and sit at a spare table in the small beer garden to try and calm myself down.

As it's now dark no one is really interested in sitting outside so I've got the space to myself. I tilt my head back and close my eyes again. "Deep breaths," I tell myself. "Deep breaths."

Of course, I'm not alone.