Fame. [Dylan O'Brien]

Reunion

People began filing into the bar, and every new face I saw wasn't familiar enough to make my heart drop. Not yet. I am currently taking refuge behind the bar.

"MJ!" I hear from behind me. Not the voice I'm anticipating. I turn to see Peter, a bar regular. His abruptness scares the crap out of me. Visibly so.

"Uh, yeah? What's up?" I respond, trying to act casual.

"You look like you're about to shit bricks," he deadpans. I give him the blankest stare.

"Thanks?" I say in hopes that he won't ask me to explain myself.

"Why?" God, please make this man evaporate.

"Uhh, no reason Peter, just going to be a busy night tonight," I say and hope that is a good enough explanation for him.

"You need a drink or somethin'?" He asks and throws some money on the table. I am at a loss for words and my eyebrows raise, but I am very much considering his offer. I look around to make sure that Jimmy is occupied, and he thankfully is.

"Peter, you don't need to pay for it, I work here," I explain as I take a shot glass out. If I am going to have to face my demons, I'm going to need some liquid courage. "What do you recommend?"

"You're asking me? You're the bartender," He says with a grin. I smile back, and as I am choosing a cheap bottle of vodka I hear commotion coming from the front entrance. The most beautiful people I have ever laid my sorry eyes on walk into the bar and I know immediately who I'm looking at. The cast of Teen Wolf. Tyler Hoechlin is the first one I see and my cheeks turn red. I knew this man was attractive, but he is much finer in person. I've never poured a shot faster in my life.

"Yeahhhh MJ!!! Shots, shots, shots!" Peter boasts in his already tipsy state. I shush him immediately. First of all, I'm drinking on the job and Jimmy will fire me on the spot. Secondly, I would rather him NOT scream my name out when Dylan could walk in any minute, if he's not already here.

"Okay, okay, Peter please. Shut up." I take the shot without a chaser and consider pouring another one. I look around to Jimmy and see him talking to none other than Holland Roden herself. Two shots couldn't hurt, right? I pour another but see Jimmy laser his eyes to me and I shove the shot in front of Peter. He gladly accepts it. My boss then stops over to me.

"Hey, I'm gonna need you to take care of the bar, I gotta deal with these fuckin' bozos crowding my establishment," he says in reference to the Teen Wolf fans that have gathered in great numbers outside. I feel my heart drop a bit.

"Yeah of course, no problem!" I say with fake enthusiasm. I need this job, clearly. Peter gives me a side eye, like he knows I'm panicking.

"Here, take the second shot, you really look like you need it," he passes it over to me. I sigh, pick it up, and down it. My stomach in beginning to feel very warm.

"Okay, but that's it, I'm paid to be here," I tell him which makes him laugh. I begin to loosen up. If Dylan is here, it's fine. Well, it's not fine, but I can manage an awkward conversation with the first love of my life. With the person who I spent every day of my life with for six years. With someone who broke my heart.

Christ, maybe I can't do this. But I'm beginning to not care as I serve other customers. I try not to think about it, but the bubble of anxiety is still sitting at the bottom of my stomach right next to the vodka. I don't even look at the seated tables until I hear loud laughter and chatter. And of course, the first person I see is the last person I would like to.

Dylan O'Brien, laughing with his best friend Tyler Posey and the rest of his coworkers. Him and his high cheekbones, his hair which is grown out and adorable, and his cute moles all over his face and neck. Fuck. I'm lost in the vision of someone I once loved. I'm snapped out of my trance by none other than Peter.

"So that explains it," he says and my head snaps towards him. I am now sweating, so I use the towel around my shoulder to wipe my forehead.

"Explains what?" I ask. Deny deny deny. Act oblivious. That usually works out for me.

Not today, though.

"Old flame?" he prods and I let out a scoff. Am I that readable?

"That obvious?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Go talk to him-" I cut him off.

"No! No thank you. Not happening. I would like to ignore this problem until it goes away," I say and cringe at my own words. Well, not my words, but the words I just took from Dylan's character Stiles. Peter laughs at me.

"Hah, well, you let me know how that works out for you." I rub my forehead with my hand and ask whoever is listening to my pleas to let this night end. I can't talk to him. What if I cry? What if I don't have any words? What if he looks at me and thinks I'm pitiful for working at a bar? What if I have a panic attack?! Thinking about these things is going to give me a panic attack.

The worst part of this conundrum is that I really want to see him. I want to talk to him, and catch up, and hug it out. I feel like I want a hug from him more than anything in the world, but I just can't face him. Not like this and not right now.

I then remember that I have work to do and start taking more orders and filling glasses. If I put my mind towards work, I can't be too bothered. Not even when I can hear his voice from across the room.

Someone asks for a rum and coke, and I begin making their drink. The bar just keeps getting busier and busier.

"Excuse me," I hear and don't even lift my head.

"How can I help you?" I ask with my bartender voice. I set the rum and coke down to the person who ordered it as I hear Peter hold a scoff in. I ignore it and I look up to see who grabbed my attention and make eye contact with the amber brown eyes I missed too much over the past three years.

AN----

Y'all I don't know why I'm updating this I'm a whole ass adult now but I just had the urge to do it. So if anyone is reading this, enjoy! I'm a much better writer now than I was like 8 years ago.

Hugs and kisses booboos.