Read A Song

Kiwi - Harry Styles

Song - Kiwi
Singer - Harry Styles
NOTE : I do realise that the chapter isn't directly related to the lyrics but it inspired me to write it so...yeah. Continue.
Requested by : @blasterrism

"Dude, I'm gonna get fired and it'll be all your fault," he muttered, passing me a couple of shots of vodka as he did so.

"You're a bartender and my friend!" I explain, pausing to take two shots. The burning sensation gets me every time. "I deserve free drinks."

"You deserved to be kicked out of the pub," he states, wiping his hands on his apron.

"It's not like I drink often," I reason with him. "I've had a clean streak for like nine months now."

"I'm not gonna carry your drunk ass home, okay? I'm too fucking tired for that now," he says with a warning look.

"I can hold my alcohol," I answer, looking away as I take in another shot.

Felt just as good as the first one.

Gazing into the distance, the sight of people dancing and making out greets me. The environment is stuffy but no one seems bothered. Many come here to drown their sorrows and some just for a one-night stand, but I come for neither of those. My purpose here is to relax with my best friend and alcohol. That's a promise I made to myself. A rule, really.

No one night stands.

Just then, I sense somebody sit on a stool a few seats away from my own. Turning my head, I see her.

She sits alone, but don't let her loneliness fool you into thinking that she's lost. Because she's not. Her posture, the way she's gazing around casually with her fists clenched suggests she's used to this scene and its possible scenarios. Her outfit is what turns the head of most. A dazzling red gown with a slit up high and a neckline too low. Her wavy brown hair swishes back and forth across her shoulder each time she moves and she carries an aura of confidence around her. The cigarette that she twirled midst her fingers completed her femme fatale look.

All in all, she looks enrapturing.

"Hey, dude," I nudge him playfully with my shoulder. "You think she'll talk to me?"

"You're asking that?" He sounds surprised. "Mr.God of Confidence?"

"I don't know," I answer, honestly. Something about her has melted my block of confidence into a puddle. "She-she, like, she's really pretty."

"I see that, Sherlock," he answers with a smirk as he works on her drink. "Don't worry, she's a regular. She's used to guys approaching her all awkward and nervous."

"A regular?" I ask, surprised. "And you haven't hit that yet?"

"Dude, she ain't my type," he shrugs, while I look at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Fine, but I'm gonna go and take my chances," I say, getting up confidently but a pang of anxiousness hits me on my chest at the very thought.

"Hey, how about you give this to her?" He asks, handing me over her drink which appeared to be a martini. Classic. "That way you'll have a excuse and won't look desperate."

"Sounds good," I take the drink in my hands and walk towards her as casually as I possibly can.

"A martini?" I say, taking a seat adjacent to her stool as I offer the drink.