Little Bird [-hs]

011 - little black dress

NAOMI

The Saturday club crowd forms fast after five. Regulars pull Louis and his entourage of bartenders into conversation. Like a bird, I flit between the outcropping of tables and booths and the bar, placing orders for drinks that keep getting stronger. I fly past the stage, glancing up at Annie's draping figure in the silks.

"Hi," she shouts over the music.

I smile back.

I wish I was up there, but the thought of five hundred dollars cash in my pocket keeps me moving, keeps me refilling drinks and racking up tabs. I want to make Niall's pockets hurt.

He sits at the club entrance and looks over IDs, running people through metal detectors. His arms firmly cross, muscles stretching against the thin fabric of his black t-shirt. He meets my gaze as I pass him now, a tray tucked under my arm. I haven't worked on the floor in so long. I forgot what it was like to brush past him every few minutes. It makes my heart race.

This used to be our life, making eyes until the night ended. He would fish in his pocket for his keys, say it was probably too dangerous for me to walk home alone. It was the same Chevy Malibu, a different apartment. I played the part well, damsel in distress and all that. It was fun for a while. It was easy.

The way we catch each other's eyes, I forget why we stopped. Just for a second.

Harry walks in.

His silhouette stands against the dusk outside, and as the door shuts he joins the descending darkness and purple lights. Niall stands off his stool. Harry's eyes scan the room until they find me, frozen at the edge of the crowd. He walks past Niall without a glance. The metal detector goes ballistic. Niall sits back down and crosses his arms tighter.

A tray on my palm, I pull away from Harry's gaze and dart into the club. The air turns thick and warm as the body count builds. I drop a drink off at a crowding table, and I sneak along the edge of the stage on my way back to the bar. Like a spider, Annie spools out of the silks to my eye level.

"Harry's here. Did you see him?" She shouts. I nod and keep edging along the platform. The crowd flows in waves, pressing into my back in rhythm with the song. "What do you want me to do?" She calls after me. Her body extends like an arrow toward my retreating frame.

"Nothing!"

Young couples dart past. Wallflowers linger along the fringes of the pit. I wash ashore at the bar and slide through the barred entrance to the POS. One of the bartenders, a woman with tightly braided brown hair, comes up behind me.

"Ring up a titos!"

I nod, and a credit card slaps into my hand. My fingers tap the screen.

"And a Jameson on the rocks," a familiar voice rumbles from behind.

I glance back at Harry, his sunglasses perched in his hair. He smirks and interlocks his fingers.

"I'll stop there. Is that disappointing?"

My heart hammers. I finish putting in my orders, close out a vodka shot, and reach for the bottle of whiskey and a lowball glass. My hips press against the stainless steel surface behind the bar. His hooded eyes watch me scoop ice into the glass and pour his drink.

"What are you doing back there?"

I slide the drink to him and smooth down my dress. "Covering a shift."

His hand wraps around the drink, and he brings it to rest against his bottom lip. Soft and pink, perfectly shaped and pressed against the crystal glass. My stomach flips. Six inches between us, all the little details in his eyes come to life.