Untamed [Niall Horan]

Chapter Nineteen

Balancing the platter above my head, I weaved through behind Mitch and out behind the bar, swerving through the strings of people. I successfully made it to a table without dropping anything, and set down the round of shots in front of the enthusiastic bridal party. They all cheered and hollered, throwing them back as soon as I placed it in front of them.

I brought the other two beers on my tray to a table nearby, putting them in front of two guys that looked to be in their thirties. One of them grunted and snatched it from my hand, the other rolling his eyes at his friend and smiling at me to thank me. I nodded and continued on to my other tables, trying to get their orders to Mitch and then back to them as soon as possible.

The bar was absolutely swamped, people squished together in tight quarters. There was music playing loudly in the background, and people were screaming to be heard. I glanced at the clock behind the bar and sighed; there was still an hour left in my shift, and I just wanted to be in Niall's kitchen scarfing down his grilled cheese.

"There's my favorite waitress."

I tensed at the voice, letting out a deep breath before I turned around and met Brad's amused gaze. "There's my least favorite customer."

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips. "Now, I'm sure Thomas wouldn't like his waitresses mouthing off to the people who pay his bills, would he?"

Thomas was the owner of the bar and my least favorite person. He made the waitresses follow a strict dress code of black leggings or yoga pants and a two-sizes-too-small black vee neck with the bars logo printed across the chest. He wanted to 'cater to the customers needs' by making the girls look like, well, sluts.

"I'm sure he wouldn't like his customers harassing his waitresses," I lie, knowing very well that Thomas would be on Brads side.

I turned back around and pulled out my rag, wiping down the newly empty circular table before someone claimed it as theirs. Despite my lame threat, though, Brad of course didn't leave.

"Well it's a good thing I'm not a customer then, isn't it?" Brad mused.

I turned around and gave him a blank stare. "What do you mean? You're standing in the bar with a beer; you're a customer."

He smirked at me, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Nope, I'm your new coworker."

My eyes narrowed and I stepped out from under him, turning and putting my hand on my lip as I eyed him. He gave me a once-over, the stupid smirk still planted on his face. Niall was just going to loooove this. I grabbed my rag from the table and spun on my heel, retreating back to the bar to busy myself with some task.

I worked hard so I didn't have time to look at Brad. I busied myself by taking on new tables, scrubbing the tables and floor behind the bar, and even offered a free round of shots or two just so I had something to do. No matter how hard I worked, though, there was constantly a string of silent curse words floating through my head about the news.

My new co worker would be the same asshole that hit on me relentlessly, despite my constant rejection.

How lovely.

Finally, my time to leave came and I did exactly that - the second the clock stroke nine o'clock, I bolted out, not even bothering to change. With my purse clenched tightly between my fingers, I hurried out to my car and sped over to Niall's house. Anna is staying at her friends house for the night, and my boyfriend promised me dinner when my shift was over.

When I pulled up to his house, I hesitated before getting out, making a silent decision to avoid the topic of Brad being my new coworker. I didn't have to tell him that the day after we got in a fight about the very man. So, walking up to his front door, I knocked lightly and then opened the door for myself, vowing that I wouldn't let Brad ruin a second night in a row.