| published! under the new title MEET ME IN THE MIDDLE | Eden knows she can't love Truman, the boy with the angelic smile and devilish eyes. Why? He's her best friend Katie's older brother, who she strictly promised she'd stay away from.
But when a...
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E D E N
It was Saturday night and the bar was packed.
My feet were already aching in my heels, arms sore from pouring drink after drink. Even my cheeks hurt from forcing a smile onto my face every time some college guy thought it was appropriate to hit on me.
I reminded myself that I needed this job to pay for my first year of college and my apartment's rent as I slid a bottle of beer across the counter, watching it land perfectly in the man's open hand.
I smiled, satisfied as I bobbed my head to the song the band was playing. So maybe working as a bartender wasn't so bad. The tips were good. The uniforms were god awful—half my chest was popping out of this thing—but I could handle some wandering eyes if it meant having enough money to stay alive.
The song the band was playing changed as a girl slid into the empty seat. "Vodka soda," she said, eyes darting around the dim room.
She was waiting for someone. I'd been working behind this counter for almost two months now, and I was slowly learning how to read people.
I handed her the drink and she thanked me, drinking half of it in one gulp. There was something familiar about her red curls that hung down her waist, the gap between her two front teeth and her green, heavily lashed eyes.
"Do I know you?" I asked, crossing my arms over the counter.
The girl's gazed flicked back to mine and she raised her eyebrows. "What?"
"You look familiar," I said again. She couldn't have been more than a year or two older than me.
"I've never been here before." She turned her attention back to the crowd, ending the conversation. I rolled my eyes, grabbed a rag and began to wipe down the counter.
I watched from the corner of my eye as the girl waved someone down, practically hopping out of the stool. My gaze followed hers, but the bar was too crowded for me to make out the face of the person now moving towards her.
It was only when I heard him call her name that I froze. The bottle of beer I was holding fell, splattering onto the floor and drenching my shoes.
I would know that voice anywhere.
His voice.
"Santana," he greeted, throwing his arm around her shoulder. "Hey, baby. Traffic was shit." He planted a quick kiss on her cheek as he sat down.
I stared at Truman, my mouth hanging open.
In the second it took for his eyes to find mine, I had replayed every moment we spent together in my head. The summers watching him play video games. Our first kiss in that closet. The halo on my head and the glint in his eyes.
