When We Met

Thirty Two

|Donovan|

Unlike those cliched rom-coms, the thought of feeling love towards Dylan doesn't scare me away. It doesn't make things super awkward between us, and it definitely doesn't invoke a drastic change in my behavior. Hence, he is as aware of the little revelation as an insect is. I couldn't be happier. It's a good thing that guys are so clueless about love. It works as a boon in most of the situations.

As promised, Dylan gets me a job as a Bartendress and he even asked Madeline about it. However, Mads being idiotically mad, she refused to work in a bar and her argument actually made sense: that she'd do anything but work when surrounded by loud music, super hot guys who dance around the floor and loads and loads of alcohol. I couldn't disagree with her, but the realisation of zero earning at the moment made my nerves all jittery, and I pretty much took an oath of working my ass off this time.

Dylan had assured me of civil working environment, which was hard to believe at first, but I know that my boyfriend would never set me up in a place that reeks of toxic masculinity. It has been over a week or so, and I'm perfectly happy with my new job. At first, it was really perplexing, with different sodas and bottles of numerous kinds of alcohol. It so happened, that during the initial days at the bar, I ended up mixing two wrong liquids which made the consumer puke his guts out. I was scared to death and could imagine being fired. On the other hand, Dylan was bent over the slab, laughing away all the remaining years of his life. It was so humiliating. I hadn't spoken to him for two days straight and ultimately, he had to beg for forgiveness. I don't care if I sound like a sadist, but I really enjoyed the whole scene of him bringing me flowers, cooking me dinner, letting me pick the most cheesy movie and me not letting him stay the nights. The last part had crushed him so bad that he'd almost assumed that I'm breaking up with him. That's when I realised things had to be brought back to normal.

Today is my eleventh day as a Bartendress and I'm wearing a full-sleeve crop top and a pair of black jeans. My hair is braided down my side and some flicks have managed to escape from the criss-cross. As I set the bar clean, I look behind me and find Dylan immersed in a deep conversation with someone. His eye brows are furrowed and his lips are pursed in a straight line. We make a quick eye contact, and his expression melts a little. A small smile graces me and I smile back, nodding back at him with assurance.

I turn around and spray some cleanser on the slab. The droplets adjust themselves on the surface like tiny pearls, and I wipe them away with the duster in my hand.

Next, I arrange the shot glasses across the front and hum along with the music that's playing in the background. Ten minutes later, two arms circle around my waist and I inhale the heavenly scent of Dylan's cologne. He rests his head on my shoulder and releases a sigh of frustration.

"All okay?" I ask him.

"Yeah. I'm just worried about my sister." He sighs again and I frown.

"What about her?"

"Dan found her unconscious in the ladies restroom three days ago. And she begged him to not tell me anything because I'd get worried. I mean, what the hell?! How on earth would I not get worried?"

I twirl around in one fluid motion, and put my hands on his cheeks. He looks at me with a sad expression and I feel like crying. He really loves Deborah and I don't know what is wrong with her. She's too reckless for her own good, and it surely does break Dylan into pieces uncountable.

"Look. You can sort this mess out, okay? You got this. But that can only happen when you talk to her. Face to face. You hear me? Go back home and talk to her. I'll handle things here just fine."

"I'm not leaving you alone. Plus, she's with Jace."

"Actually. Talk to this Jace person you always mention."