Because it had felt pretty damn amazing.
The next day, I was back at the bar, doing my thing, when the door opened and I happened to look up and meet eyes with the person coming in. My “oh shit” face must have been evident, because when Becca saw me, she grimaced in an ashamed sort of way. She made her way to the bar and took a seat, and I couldn’t help but fixate on how incredibly hot she was. And how much I wanted to recreate that kiss on those full, pouty lips and wonder what they would feel like on the rest of my body.
I had to stop.
“Hey,” she said, as I tried to wipe certain thoughts from my brain like shaking an Etch-A-Sketch.
“Hey,” I said. “How are you today?”
She pulled her lips to one side and made a face that was simultaneously expressing disappointment in herself as well as being stupidly cute.
“I’m fine, I guess. It’s why I came in, actually,” she said. “I wanted to talk about last night.”
“What about last night?” I said, playing dumb.
“You know,” she said. Then she leaned in a little closer, and her eyes cut seriously. “You know.”
“No need to apologize.”
She shook her head. “I got really drunk. It was my own fault,” she said. “I am a lightweight. And I know that about myself. But I intentionally went beyond where I knew my limit was because I was having fun with you and because I was frustrated with everything.”
I nodded along, picking up various glasses and buffing them clean. Or cleaner. It was a classic bartender move, seen on every TV show ever, and I did it as a habit, whether the glasses needed it or not.
“Yeah, well, you learned that lesson, then, didn’t you?” I asked. “Plus, I now know where your limit is, too, and I know when to stop you.” I smiled. I hoped it was an amiable smile that said nothing more than the words that had come from my lips. Maybe she didn’t remember the rest of the night. Maybe I could just put it behind us and try to move on like nothing happened.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Right.” I laughed, looking to breeze right past it all.
“I’m sorry I behaved so poorly,” she said, looking down at her hands as she spoke. “I don’t really remember much about what happened once we left.”
“Well, that’s probably a good thing.”
“Why?” she asked. Suddenly I was tight-lipped. She didn’t seem to remember the kiss, and I had no intention of telling her, but now I was caught by my own flippant words and needed to figure out something to tell her. “Did something happen?”
“No,” I lied. “You didn’t do anything crazy. Just got silly and stumbled around a little. I got you home with no fanfare.”
“I didn’t throw up in your truck, did I?” she asked, a look on her face that told me that had happened to her at least once, and it was a memory she would very much like to never repeat.
“No, the truck is vomit-free,” I said. “Are you going to stick around tonight?” I asked, hoping to move the subject along to something else.
“Yes, actually,” she said, “but I’m going to stay sober tonight. No alcohol. Feel free to keep the zero-calorie sodas coming, though.”
I nodded, feeling bummed for some reason. It wasn’t that she wasn’t going to drink—that didn’t matter to me, but it was something about her not remembering our kiss. As silly, and dangerous, as it was, I was a little miffed she didn’t recall it at all. Maybe I made up that feeling when our lips met. Maybe she really was just drunk and lonely after all.
The door opened again, and Melissa walked in. There were only a few people at the bar at this time, but it was right about the time when that changed. Soon the bar would be full of folks looking to have a good time, and I was likely going to lose track of her, especially if Melissa was chatting her up. I decided that would be for the best, since I could focus on work and not worry about what that kiss meant or where it left me.
The night breezed by, the bar getting busy but never overwhelming. Ava and Mason occasionally took shifts behind the bar to give me a break, and I barely saw Becca except in passing during those breaks. She was usually talking to Melissa, sipping on the clear soda I sent her early in the night or dancing by the jukebox. My eyes lingered on her just a bit longer when she was dancing, and I had to force myself to look away.
I decided to take a break when Ava and Mason were behind the bar again around midnight. There was a small lull, right before the last big rush of the night, and I felt like I could use some fresh air. As I headed down the hall toward the door, I heard someone yelling frantically from the kitchen, and I stopped. Pushing my way through the double doors, I was hit by a wall of grey smoke.