CHAPTER FIVE
I watch as three girls flirt with Finn out on the balcony while I serve a customer at the bar.
One of the girls has folded over laughing at something he’s said. Now she’s slapping his shoulder and pressing her face into his denim shirt and guffawing, as though she can’t possibly contain herself or keep her hands to herself.
He cranes his neck to look down at her, bemused.
Cold lager pours down the side of the pint glass I’m filling and runs over my hand. I flinch and swap out the full glass for an empty one.
It seems surreal, now, that he sat on a sofa with me last Saturday, talking for an hour. Was I just the flavour of the night?
I’ve been on edge during every one of my shifts this week in case he comes in, but tonight is the first time our paths have crossed, and aside from a jaunty wave hello when he strolled in and accepted the drink Dan had bought him, we’ve had zero interactions.
That tiny wave alone was enough to make me blush.
I force myself to concentrate on the pint I’m pouring.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ the guy I’m serving asks.
‘Oh, thanks, but we’re not allowed to drink behind the bar,’ I reply, offering him the card reader.
He taps his card against it, picks up his pints and walks off.
Was he hitting on me? Should I be flattered?
Honestly? I can barely recall what he looked like.
My mood improves slightly when Finn takes to the stage with the rest of Mixamatosis. They launch into the first song, Chris hammering the drums, Dan working his lead guitar, Tarek coolly strumming his bass. Then Finn steps up to the mic and begins to sing in that deep, musical voice of his, his eyes downcast, his dark hair falling forward, and I’m transfixed.
I look for Rach, to ask the name of the song, but can’t see her through the crowd of people.
I glance back at Finn and a full-body jolt goes through me when I discover him already looking at me. His lips curl up into a half-smile as he holds eye contact for several torturously exquisite seconds, and then he drops his gaze.
I am unbelievably flustered as I get back to work.
A good twenty minutes after the set has finished, I’m opening the dishwasher when Finn approaches the bar.
‘Hello,’ he says to me through a cloud of steam.
I try to squash the tiny gymnast cartwheeling around my stomach as I place a couple of dripping glasses onto the rack above the bar.
‘Hey. What can I get you?’ I’m pleased by how neutral my tone is.
‘Straight to business. Two pints of Tribute and a couple of Cokes, please.’ He smiles at me, but I remember the girls on the balcony and can’t bring myself to flirt.
‘Pints or halves for the Cokes?’
‘Make them pints. I’m thirsty.’
‘You’re not drinking?’ I ask as I get on with the soft drinks.
‘Taking a break. Figure it could be another long one. Are you coming to the beach?’ He rests his elbows on the bar.
‘Who’s going to the beach?’
‘A bunch of us, in a bit.’
‘Oh, right.’
