The Fire We Make

chapter four

"I'll have a Read-Headed Slut, no salt," a familiar voice drawled from the other side of the bar. I look up into the mischievous eyes of my little brother. We used to always go back and forth thinking of the dirtiest names for cocktails. Red-Headed Slut has always been a favorite of ours.

"Coming right up, baby brother!" I hollered, knowing he hates when I call him that.

I go about making his drink, making sure to go extra light on the liquor. My baby brother may be grown, but I'm still very protective of him.

"Hollyn Mitchell, you didn't tell me your cute little brother was back in town!" Mila screeched when she glanced at our end of the bar.

I notice blush creeping up Brayden's cheeks as he looked at Mila with a star-struck expression. I make a mental note of telling him she's off limits but realizes Mila has the same look on her face.

Ew!

"Mila, Brayden's back in town," I deadpan, still a little annoyed at their blatant attraction.

Mila glowers at me and hits me with her towel before walking away. I don't miss the way Brayden's eyes travel the length of her retreating form and I hit him with my own towel.

"Ouch! What was that for?!" He bellowed.

"Don't think I didn't see that. And if you think you're going to get involved with my best friend, think again Brayden."

Before he can even respond, I give him his drink and another stern look for good measure. I decided to check up on the lingering parties at the booths. There are only two booths, one with a couple, another with a group of middle-aged females, and then there was a table with the asshole in the black hat.

Unfortunately, the first two booths said they're "good" which leaves me to check up on the asshole.

"Can I get you guys anything else?" I chirped, pasting an artificial smile on my face.

"No sweetheart, we're-" the nice one is cut off by the menacing look on the asshole's face.

"Actually, you can get us a server who knows how to tell time. I asked you to come back every ten minutes not whenever the hell you feel like it," he scolded. "We just talk about this too."

Before I can count to ten, I hear him say, "No wonder females are never good for anything."

Before I knew what I was doing, I felt the pitcher of beer I held on my hands drop all over his pants. He sucked in deeply and jumped up at once, making his seat scrap the wooden floors. His seat falls backward and his feet managed to get caught up in the seat. He extended his arms, trying to grab the closest thing towards him: me.

His hand reached out for mines and I yelped as I felt myself being tugged down with him. I don't understand what possessed him to reach out and grab me, I was lighter than him by a long shot! My body rested on top of his and I could feel my chin hit his shoulder blade, causing pain to soar through my mouth and I swore I tasted blood. I heard him groan from underneath me. I could faintly see him rubbing his head. From this angle, he didn't look like such a douchebag, but I spoke too soon.

"For fucking sake, are you going to keep laying on top of me?" He growled. "Or are you going to get up?"

"You know, I wasn't the one who tripped and dragged you along with me!" I yelled, pushing myself off his body.

I saw him angrily push himself up. His hat was knocked off his face and he quickly grabbed it, placing it back on his head. But I didn't miss the bruise that forming around under his eye.

"It was you who started this all. What's up with you throwing drinks on people?" He growled, grabbing some napkins. He began dabbing them all over his face before hissing.