The Marshall Boy

Fifteen

Fifteen.
Lucy. 

I'm wiping the bar down, cleaning up all the sticky beer stains from the night before when the door chimes and a stranger strolls in. I stop to take him in, one look and I affirm he's definitely not from here: he's dressed in casual attire consisting of jeans, a v-neck, and a heavy yet stylish winter coat. His blonde hair is gelled to spike up, and I force myself to focus on the stains rather than how many tubes of gel he uses to get it to stay perfectly. I watch from the corner of my eye, as he looks around at all the stacked chairs on the tables, then his eyes land on me.

"Hi there," His voice gives him away- I think it's western, I'd put my money on western. Nope, definitely not from around here.

"Hi." I say politely as I throw the towel under the bar, and smile. "What can I get you?"

He smiles as he scratches the slight stubble on his chin. "I normally don't drink this early," He informs me, as he looks at our selections. "I'll just take a beer."

"Okay," I say, walking to the fridge and grabbing one then sliding it to him. He pops it as soon as it reaches his hand, and inclines it to me before taking a drink. I return to wiping the counter, and attempt to focus as I notice his eyes are following my every move.

"Did you grow up around here?" He asks casually, and I nod as I smile politely up at him. "So, you went to high school here then?"

"I did." I affirm, wondering where else he would think I'd go to school. It was either public high school, or homeschool and no way was I being homeschooled while all my friends got to live their teenage years like normal kids. This guy must not be from a small town, or he could just be making small talk. I tend to over analyze.

"That's nice," He comments, seeming distracted. "I'm here on business." He informs me, and I nod again. Like I care...

"What kind of business are you here for?" I ask, attempting to keep the conversation light.

"I work at a good friend of mine's company; haven't seen them in a while though." He says, taking a long swallow of his beer.

"I'm sure you miss them, since you're good friends." I smile, still trying to keep it light. It's not lost on me that I'm here alone, with a very open stranger, who won't stop checking out my backside in my skinny jeans. I make sure to keep a lot of distance between us, and not act too interested in what he's saying.

"You could say that." He mutters, finishing his beer and dropping a bill on the counter. "Nice to meet you-" He pauses, and I smile softly.

"Lucy. Lucy Vaughn." I say, and he nods as he extends his hand and I wipe mine on my jeans before shaking his cold one.

"My friends call me Nate." He says, shaking my hand firmly before letting go, but not before his eyes drop to my high cut sweater.

"Nice to meet you," I reply, happy to have my hand back to myself and on the counter. He nods once, before walking out, the door chiming behind him. I shake my head, as I continue wiping down the bar, then throw the towel back under the bar. The door chimes just as I'm about to take a lunch break, and I fight the urge to sigh as I turn around and stop short of saying hello.

Blake Marshall is standing just inside the door. And he looks handsome as hell, clad in jeans, a snug tee shirt and that leather jacket. He stares at me, and I can't seem to make my words come out of my throat. The silence continues as he makes his way behind the bar, and toward me. I'm tempted to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming, but I can't make myself move. Blake is in front of me now, and I realize just how tall he is now that he's invading my entire being. His presence demands attention and I give him all of mine as our eyes meet.

"What-" I start, just as he cups my face with his hands and kisses me fiercely. My teen self is screaming: but adult me is out of her trance as soon as his lips touch mine. My arms wind themselves around him and touch his muscular back, as he keeps one hand on my face, and his strong arm wounds around me, pulling me flush to his hard body as he backs us up and places me on the counter. We stop momentarily, and our eyes meet for a second before our lips do again. I inhale his intoxicating scent, and he groans as I twirl my fingers through his short hair. His other hand slips to my thigh, and I suddenly feel very hot as his hand starts to roam, achingly slow over my body. His kiss is demanding, forcing my full attention as his warm hand continues to roam over my hot body while his tongue fights for dominance with mine. I find myself smiling, as my hand roams over his strong back muscles. I feel like we're about to pull our clothes off, when the phone rings causing us to jump and pull apart an inch. My eyes meet his striking blue eyes, and I'm hypnotized until he blinks. I swallow, making sure my mind can come up with words, before I smile softly.

"I should probably get that." I tell him, and he helps me down from the counter without a word. I feel his eyes on me as I walk toward the phone hanging on the wall, and answer it.

"Hey Luce, I'm bringing you lunch." Bobby announces over the phone, and I nod.

"Sure, okay." I say distractedly as the door chimes, and I whirl around. I'm alone in the bar, and I blink as I realize what just happened.

"Be there in two minutes." Bobby informs me, and I hang up the phone numbly, still staring at the door. I look around the bar, and my eyes fall on a piece of paper; I clench my jaw as I grab it up and read it.

Sorry about last night. -B.M.

"Screw you." I growl under my breath, crumpling up the paper. "Screw you!" I shout now, smacking the wooden bar with my hand and rolling my eyes. What is the matter with me?

The door chimes for the third time, and I'm sad when the smell of hot dogs and French fries chases away the smell of Blake's cologne.