Oceans Apart | Arthur Curry

1

present

The bell hanging above the entrance chimes, signalling the arrival of another customer.

It's a little busy in the bar today that's filled with burly, biker-looking dudes chatting away rowdily with their buddies.

I don't bother lifting my head to catch a glimpse of the new faces that had just joined the fray, focusing my attention on getting the two burly guys seated at the end of the counter their drinks.

A set of broad shoulders settled into one of the few empty stools in front of me from the corner of my eye and threw out a quick, "I'll be with you in a minute!"

I'm struggling to tend the bar on my own, and what's worse is that I have some of my rowdiest customers here tonight.

The constant drunken catcalling and leery gazes were easy enough to ignore. What was tough was trying to evade their grabby hands that were always trying to cop a feel of what wasn't theirs to touch whenever I dropped their drinks off at their table.

As if my mind had conjured them up, a rough voice that I'm sure sounded that way from one pack too many cigarettes calls out from across the bar.

"What's taking so long, sweet cheeks?"

I rolled my eyes at the disgusting pet name and yelled in response, "It's coming!"

"If I had it my way, the drinks won't be the only thing that's coming tonight," Dave-the creep- hollers, drawing loud guffaws from his friends. The fact that he has managed to find so many like-minded people boggles my mind and scares me a little.

I let out a deep sigh, placing their beers on a large tray and hefting it up. The weight makes my arms burn by the time I stop by the table, leaning over to place the tray down on their table.

"Here," I say curtly, consciously trying to avoid their lecherous gazes.

Dave smiles at me, showing off a row of yellowing teeth. "Thanks, sweet cheeks."

I see his hand moving before I can even react, moving up to smack my ass like he has tried to do multiple times before... only this time, with how packed the place was, there was hardly any space for me to move.

My heart is racing as I steel myself his unwanted touch...but it never comes. Instead, a deep voice sounds from behind me, "Did she say you could touch her?"

I spin around to see that Arthur has his arm in a vice grip, and the man looks like it's taking all of him to not whimper in pain.

"Arthur-" I jump in, trying to diffuse the situation, but he quickly cuts me off.

"Has he done this before?"

I don't think I've ever seen Arthur look quite this angry before. As his raging eyes stare down at me, I resist the urge to cower even though I know that his anger isn't directed at me.

Hugging my tray to my chest as if it could shield me from the drama, I grab Arthur's hand. "It's fine, let it go."

"Nothing about this is fine, Harp," He says through gritted teeth, "I heard what he said to you before. I let that go. Clearly, I shouldn't have."

"Arthur, please. I can't afford to lose this job."

He lets out a heavy sigh at my plea, sending one last withering glare to the table before he lets me drag him away.

I sit him down at the end of the bar- his usual spot- and smile at him, "Do you want anything to drink?"

The corner of his lip twitches into an almost-there smile as he finally starts to calm down, though his shoulder remains tense. "No," He shakes his head, "How long till you get off?"