It’s always busy during my shifts, but ever since the owner started advertising half-priced drinks, we’ve gotten a slew of additional business, mostly from the college crowd.
I check IDs as people enter, having to turn away a couple twenty-year-olds who didn’t realize we’re a twenty-one-and-above establishment, unlike some of the bars closer to campus that serve food and mocktails for the underage crowd.
The only food here are the garnishes for the drinks.
Music pumps through the space, the makeshift dance floor occupied by the twenty-somethings as the regulars jostle for position near the bar. The pool tables are both in use, as are the dart boards.
The door opens to another gust of cool air. And I freeze as familiar blue eyes stare at me in shock.
I regain my composure faster than Red, who trips over his foot as his friend bumps into his back. Said friend steadies him before looking around curiously.
“IDs,” I say mildly, holding out my hand.
Red shakes himself loose, his eyes wide as he pulls out his wallet. His gaze makes a full circuit of my body, holding for a long time on my exposed arms and neck, before he slips his license free and hands it over.
I take my time looking at his picture and then his name. “Isaac Newport,” I say softly, flicking my eyes to his. His cheeks are bright, freckles standing in stark relief. “Twenty-four years old.”
“You work here?” he asks, seemingly having recovered his ability to speak.
“I do.”
“You weren’t at the library earlier.”
Oh, was I missed?
Isaac sets his jaw stubbornly, as if realizing what he let slip. My smile only grows.
“Unintentional,” I tell him, handing his ID back.
The friend looks between the two of us. “Wait…You’reLibrary Guy?”
I raise an eyebrow Isaac’s way.
“Small world,” the redhead mutters, glancing anywhere but at me.
“Trevor,” I offer to the friend.
He shakes my hand heartily before passing me his license. “Todd. Nice to meet you. So can you recite poetry anywhere or does it have to be in a bookish setting?”
Isaac’s head whips his friend’s way, mortification written across his face. “Todd.”
Todd looks at him with wide eyes. “What?”
Clearing my throat, I catch Red’s gaze and speak over the music. “‘People destined to meet will do so, apparently by chance, at precisely the right moment.’”
Isaac licks his lips, the rings surrounding his irises nearly black in this light. “Emerson.”
My own lips twitch as I pass Todd’s ID back.
“Nice,” the friend says, nodding his approval. “I’m gonna get a drink while you two catch up.”
“I’ll be right there,” Isaac tells him.
Todd saunters happily over to the bar. The crowd parts around him, more than one admiring stare on his person.
Isaac’s eyebrow is raised when I look back his way. “He’s off-limits.” His tone is hard, that fire in his eyes a notch hotter than usual.
“Is that so?” I ask slowly. “And why’s that?”
