Happy Hour (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 22

"I'm back, baby!" Adam announces before throwing his arms around me and pulling me in for a kiss. He always did have a flair for the dramatic. It's always amused and irritated me in almost equal measures.

What can I tell you about Adam?

First of all, there's a reason I didn't mention him. To you or to Chris. 

He once worked alongside me in the pub. He hasn't for a long time as he decided to go travelling. He very occasionally returns and when he does, he's been my . . . Well, to put it bluntly, my "friend with benefits".

It's been at least a year since I last saw him. And usually I at least get some sort of text as a warning. Had he done so I would have informed him politely that I was seeing someone and our little arrangement, if you could even call it that, was no longer a possibility.

Because, since Chris installed himself in my life, I can't possibly imagine being with anyone else. 

But apparently I've been single for so long that Adam now assumes there's no question of whether I'm available or not.

I don't return the kiss - obviously - and extricate myself as quickly as possible, glancing behind the bar to see if Chris was there and if he's spotted what just happened.

Of course he has because, like I said, things have gone way too smoothly for me until now.

His handsome face is blank. It's like the shutters have came down, apart from a slight pinching around his mouth and forehead. I feel dread bubbling up in my stomach.

He steps back momentarily into the shadows so I can barely see him, then moves forward to serve someone standing at the bar who couldn't be arsed to wait for the table service. He smiles at the customer but it's brittle and doesn't reach his eyes.

Damage control is most definitely required.

I whirl to face Adam. "We need to talk," I hiss viciously.

He's too busy waving over at Keith. "Just a minute, I need to catch up with my old pal." He is off across the room before I can stop him.

Good god, this is a nightmare.

I turn back to the bar, where Chris is measuring out a few shots of tequila, a muscle thudding in his cheek. The girl he's serving is - understandably - trying to flirt with him but he's not really responding and I'm grateful for that at least. It would be the easy option for him to flirt back as revenge and she's a beauty.

I hurry towards him as he moves over to pick up a bottle of wine and an ice bucket. He glances at me quickly but I'm speared through the heart by the look in his eyes. It's cold as ice.

"It's not what it looks like," I say quietly. I touch his arm gently but he flinches.

"It's fine. I suppose you never actually confirmed you were officially single," is his cutting response before he heads back to his customer. 

He's reverted to his default mode, I can see it. Protecting himself by putting up a front. I get it. I witnessed it for 2 years as a teen. And then again just last week until I somehow managed to break through his defences.

I can't even blame him. Because this is damning evidence against me. If the roles were reversed and that girl on the other side of the bar was kissing him out of nowhere, acting like a girlfriend, I would be feeling and acting the same way he is right now. Thinking I was just a stop-gap until she came back into his life.

I need to make this right.

However, I also need to get the order I've just taken to the kitchen and I need my job, so my only choice right now is to let him stalk off for now, although it's killing me to do so.

The chef is the chattiest he's ever been, of course, and I'm struggling to get back out of the kitchen.  It's starting to feel like everything is against me tonight. 

When I finally emerge back into the bar, Chris is helping the beautiful customer he was serving to carry her friends' multiple drinks back to their table. After he sets them down all four of them seem to start talking to him all at once, and he lingers there to answer their questions. I stand back and fold my arms, watching him, trying not to let my face betray me, and he glances briefly over at me, his gaze completely unreadable. Before looking away dismissively and laughing at something one of the girls has said. Jealousy creeps up my spine.

I've had enough of this.