Last Friday Night (ManxMan) ✔️

Chapter 9

"Yes, I would be happy to get that Shirley Temple for you."

River worked hard to keep his voice peppy and attitude upbeat as he served the nth customer that night. He'd been doing this for years and dealing with all of the socializing that came with it was natural at this point. Today, however, he found the task difficult.

Since River joined him for football a few weeks ago, Hunter was nowhere to be found. Maybe that was incorrect since it implied that River actually looked. But usually, he didn't have to. Hunter would spend almost every lunch break with River at the bar, discreetly eating a meal that chef Lawrence hadn't made. That hour or so would be spent trying to hide some name-brand packaging while talking with River. At the very least he would show up on Fridays to say hello and have a drink, like old times. Instead, two weeks had passed and River had heard nothing.

Maybe he should use Hunter's phone number and actually text him for once. Having something in their conversation thread other than a park address wouldn't be so bad.

"This is so good. Thank you!" The woman, who probably wasn't much older than River, gushed after taking a sip. The compliment was sweet, but it only made River more aware of what he missed. Hunter often gushed as well, but his reviews were more physical in nature.

Before he said a word, River always knew that he liked a drink because his body would deflate, sinking into his chair as if all the pressures of the world were gone. And suddenly all that was left was Hunter and that single glass. Gosh, River was thinking about him so much that he could actually see him walk into the bar and sit right in front of him.

But imaginary Hunter was wearing just slacks and a shirt. And imaginary Hunter seemed very amused as he waited for River to serve him.

Oh

"Long time no see," River chuckled, fighting to keep the blush off of his cheeks. He failed miserably and Hunter's mouth turned up into a bright smile.

"Yeah, I've been really busy," Hunter explained. He was resting his jaw on his open palm like a truly tired man but River just laughed, rolling his eyes in disbelief.

"Everyone says that."

Hunter's expression turned contemplative as he looked at River. He saw this as a challenge and while most didn't fight to prove how tired they were, Hunter entered the bar irritated and had time to be a little petty today.

"But few of them have the eye bags to prove it."

Before River could ask what he meant by that, Hunter leaned forward, using his elbows on the counter to allow him to get close. With the space between them reduced, River could clearly see the ugly, blue-ish gray bags hanging below Hunter's eyes.

He almost wanted to touch them, caress the skin of Hunter's upper chek and see how he reacted. At the very least he wanted to get Hunter to go to sleep so they could go down. The amount of concern he suddenly felt towards the younger man was shocking and River clenched his jaw against those instincts. He now worked to steal what he knew must have been a stupid expression.

"Gosh, you do look bad."

"Thank you," Hunter laughed, settling back into his seat, allowing River to breathe properly again. "You don't look that good yourself."

"That's a lie! I look great today," River insisted, picking at his open collar self-consciously. He was still checking over his appearance when Hunter groaned, raking his open fingers through slightly gelled hair.

"You're right. Of course you look good."

River was kind of taken aback to hear Hunter say it so plainly. His mind raced to process the words but Hunter was distracted, firmly rubbing back and forth across his forehead.