You Dumped Spaghetti On Me.

Happy Mix Hour

*some music to make you feel as if you are there🔥*

Turns out it was the Evan I knew.

"One Prosax!" Lacey yelled my way.

"Okay, I got it!" I yelled back.

The music was so loud that we could barely hear each other, and the club was very crowded. People came to the bar to order drinks, but I had never thought that they would yell, scream, and push people away to be the first in line. Every time I looked up, I quickly looked down. It was such a mess. Some came back saying their drink wasn't okay; others said it was too strong. Some wanted more, and others ordered drinks I never heard of, like Prosax. The hell is that?

I said I got it, so I couldn't ask Lacey. Besides, she was busy, too. I bit my lip and looked at the menu what it was. There was this card, list, where all the drinks were put on. When I found Prosax, I groaned. I didn't know how to make that? The menu was vague, and I did not recognize the ingredients.

The pressure of the crowd didn't help me relax, either. I didn't dare to take the time to try and make it.

"L-acey?! Got a minute?" I asked, leaning towards her side.

"No! Ask the boys!" she answered.

Great. That is exactly what I wanted to do right now. Not.

Unfortunately, this wasn't about me. The customer wanted a drink, and I needed to do my job, so I turned to Evan.

"Evan! Can you help me out? I need to make a prosax." I walked towards his side, which is like two steps. "Look, on the menu it says that I need- hey!"

"The menu sucks. I know that customer. Where is your mixer?"

"My what?"

Evan groaned and got his own equipment. He then touched a red button. I wondered what that would do.

Suddenly, the club started playing a tape that made it seem as if we were in some show and the host introduced us.

"Dear people! Yes, oh, yes! Yoooouuu know what this means! It is time tooooooooo MIX! For the ones who don't know what this means, let me tell you! The barrrrrr issss onnnn F I R E! Watch the boys, watch the girls, it is happy mix hourrrrr!"

Fireball by Pitbull ft. John Ryan started playing, and everyone cheered. I laughed a little, surprised by the energy it gave me. The boys began taking off their shirt, and I blinked.

"What are you doing? Wait!" I yelled when Evan took off my shirt. I was NOT prepared for this. "Stop!" I yelled, but soon my protest faded. Everyone in the club took it off. Glad my mother wasn't working.

I had a red bra with sweet lace patterns on it, and Evan smirked. I hated it. I had cup D, and it kind of made me insecure. At this very moment, it made me aware.

"Sexy. I like how it fits your skin," he said, smug, and laid our shirts on the side of the bar. "It is happy mix hour. People can order mix drinks for half the price. I did it so you can learn how to mix. Stay on my side; we're doing this together."

I wanted to reply to his comment, but the people were so excited, and Evan had already started mixing. I sighed and focused on Evan doing his job. If I knew how to do this, I could go back to my side again and be myself.

Evan and I were opposites. His skin was pale, whereas my skin was darker. I always wondered if skin tones had names, just like lipstick or other make-up stuff, so I googled it on Google Images. Apparently, I have a mix of honey, chestnut, espresso, and golden. Some websites gave another definition to those tones.

I did agree with Evan that red suited me, but, oh, he should see me in blue. Thát suited me. I smirked when I imagined his face seeing me in blue lingerie, and reminded myself not to think about that. Right now, it was all about focus.

We were three drinks further when Evan offered me to make one. He gave me space, and I bit my lip as I started getting the ingredients. Thank the heaven I was wearing high waisted jeans, or else I would have worried about my stomach as well.

I wasn't chubby, but I did have some rolls whenever I sat down- I mean, who doesn't- but it still bothered me. I knew I could be slimmer and thinner, and I also knew I could be bigger, although somehow, I wish to have this fit body with abs, like in those commercials.

The fact Evan was next to me, probably observing my body more than my drinks, bothered me the most. It felt private.

I managed to make a drink, and I looked at him, surprised to see that he wasn't looking at me but at a paper where he was writing down some things.

"Sweet. You did a great job. I wrote some things down. You can improve if you want to. May I help you?" he asked, gently.

I nodded. "...Sure?"

He started explaining while he touched my hands and adjusted them in a way it made it easier to mix. "And now you shake it," he said, and shook my hands.

I smiled. "You're not that bad after all," I admitted.

He laughed. "You thought I was bad?"

"Maybe," I smirked. "A little."

He looked at me doubtfully, and I laughed. "Okay, a lot. But like I said; you're not actually that bad. We can do this together."

He smirked and took my drink. He put in a straw and some ice and handed it to the customer before he looked at me with a grin, our eyes holding each other.

"I like that."

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