Blues

2. Hazel Eyed Blues.

"He got those eyes, those eyes that will see right through you."
Brown eyed blues by Adrian Hood.

Enjoy!

"You smell good." A wasted asshole slurs into my ear over the loud music of Sia's Cheap Thrills, and I wince. His chest is pressed against one shoulder in an intimate way. One hand is holding a bottle of beer, and the other is holding onto my other shoulder to keep himself steady.

You smell like shit.

"Do I?" I question instead, letting a fake smirk take over my face. Masks are my profession.

"Hmm.." I feel his nose nuzzling into my neck and I decide that he went too far. I wiggle out of his hold and he stumbles, falling onto his fat ass. Well deserved, asshole.

He mutters a "bitch" before the doorman drags him away.

"Would you like anything else? " I ask a couple of girls who are apparently sharing a girls' night.

They burst into laughing, clearly drunk. "Another round of tequila, please" one of them gasps through her laughter. I roll my eyes and go back to retrieve their order.

I manage to finish my shift at NIGHTS, the bar I work at, at twelve in the morning, feeling thoroughly exhausted. It's been a ferocious night, but then again, It's not the first, and patently not the last.

I should be getting accustomed to the atmosphere at NIGHTS with the drunken jerks bouncing around, but it would be a great sacrifice. I'm not staying here for long. I will find myself a decent job with a decent salary and leave this repellent place in no time. Or that's what I convince myself of.

I inwardly groan in indignation when I open the front door of my shared apartment, for the second time today, and find Hannah laying on the couch with her eyes glued to her cell phone.

I'm beginning to hate that freaking couch.

Unlike her usual self, she doesn't look up or acknowledge me when I enter, and I come to the conclusion that she's seriously angry at me for rejecting her for another friend. Drama, something I can never condone or deal with.

This morning I swapped numbers with Melody. She sounded like a gossip girl, too chatty, the type I usually avoid, but evidently, she appealed to me after the incident with Dylan.

Dylan. His name does unrecognisable things to my scrappy mind. The way he looked at me from across the patio with that unreadable expression on his sculpted face. The memory alone gives me tingles. I know I should be worried, but surprisingly, I'm intrigued. Too intrigued to get him out of my mind.

"Hey." I throw at Hannah, slumping onto the chair facing her. The fatigue is becoming insufferable.

"Hey." She mutters back, feigning busyness. She's like an open book to read, easy to read, and unfortunately, easy to ignore.

At that thought, I feel guilty and I castigate myself. Guilt is something I can't tolerate. I've been running from it for years and tonight is so not the night to let it in.

"How was your day? " I ask her.

"Okay, but apparently yours was more interesting. " her eyes are still focused on the screen.

"Was it?" I draw in my eyebrows, feigning innocence.

"Stop it." She practically yells and my eyes widen. Her green eyes are feral, and if looks could kill, I'd be hanging from the ceiling.

"What?" My voice is very calm. I'm always calm and placid.

"Stop with the indifference act, you pretentious bitch! You walk around as if you rule the world but we both know that you're nothing. " she points her index finger at me. Her chest heaves in anger and one of her hands immediately covers her wide open mouth, realising her mistake.