"What can I get you?"
He narrows his eyes and looks me up and down. "What are you, twelve?"
I force a sickeningly sweet smile on my face. "My age has nothing to do with your drink order, so again, what can I get you?"
"A martini. Dry. Extra olives."
Asshole. "Coming right up."
Grabbing one of the glasses from the shelf, I walk over to the liquor and go to make the drink. I manage to bump the glass with my elbow, and it tumbles to the floor and shatters. A groan echoes from the back of my throat, and a quick glance to the prick at the end of the bar tells me he's not amused.
"Okay." Kennedy steps next to me and pushes me out of the way with her hip. "Why don't you just handle bottled beer?"
"I'll probably manage to screw that up, too," I reply.
She thinks about it for a minute and then smiles. "Cans then?"
Ugh. This was a bad idea.
IT'S ONLY TWO HOURS into my first shift, which couldn't possibly be going any worse, when Easton and Zayn walk in. At the look my brother gives me, I suddenly feel the need to go cower in a corner somewhere and pretend I'm not here.
"Amelia Rose," Easton chastises, like he's my father. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Stay strong. Hold your ground. "I'm working. But you already knew that, thanks to someone."
The last part is said pointedly at Zayn. I knew he would fucking blab about it. After finding out he was the one who brought me home last night, I was considering giving him that chance to talk he keeps begging for. But now? Out of the question.
Easton scoffs. "Don't blame him. What makes you think being a bartender is a good idea?"
Honestly, I'm not so sure anymore, but I'm not about to tell him that. "The tips are amazing, and besides, I'm not alone."
I nod over to Kennedy who is whipping up drinks like a fucking professional. My brother, however, couldn't care less right now.
"Let's go," he tells me. "I'm taking you home."
"No. You're not."
"Amelia."
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the counter behind me. "I don't know what it is about you two, but you can't always go all caveman and control my life. I'm eighteen, and I can make my own choices. Like working here."
A subtle smirk makes its way to Zayn's face as Easton throws his head back and groans. Then, with a look at Zayn, he nods toward the stools and they both take a seat.
"Wait, what are you doing?" I question, suddenly panicked.
E shrugs. "If you won't leave, then I have no choice but to sit here and look after you."
I'm shaking my head before he even stops talking. "Absolutely not. You have to go."
It's bad enough that I'm making a total fool out of myself in front of all these strangers, but to look like an idiot in front of Zayn is not something I'm willing to do. And yet, if I give in and leave, Easton will think he can continue to railroad me into doing what he wants. Regardless of what I choose, there's no winning for me.
Kennedy steps up next to me and runs her fingers through her hair. "You okay?"
I huff. "I'd be better if you could make these two leave."
As if she didn't realize they were there, her eyes meet Easton's and widen. A blush coats her cheeks, and she runs her fingers through her hair. My brother licks his lips, looking down for a second and then back up at her.
What the fuck?
"Did you two...?"
Kennedy clears her throat. "Oh, shoot. I forgot a customer."
She walks away and leaves me to stare at my brother with my tongue in my cheek and my brows raised. For the first time since he got here, Easton looks anywhere but at me. When I glance over at Zayn, he's clearly trying not to laugh.
Sighing, I lean against the counter in front of them. "If you ruin the one friend I have here, I'll tell the whole school how you wet the bed until you were nine." Zayn snorts, but the smile vanishes from his face when I focus my attention on him. "I wouldn't laugh if I were you, Captain Bronsyn."
When we were younger, Zayn thought it would be fun to run around my house in his underwear with one of my pink, frilly capes on his back. Easton painted a giant B on Zayn's torso and completed the outfit with a princess tiara and satin white gloves. My mom took a ton of pictures of it. Thankfully, I still have them.
"You wouldn't."
I smile sweetly. "Try me."
IT TAKES MUCH LONGER than it took Kennedy, but I'm finally getting the hang of this thing. My roommate and another one of the bartenders take some time to teach me some of the recipes, as well as how to flip a bottle in my hand. That one took an obnoxious amount of attempts to get, but I managed to do it.
Easton and Zayn still refuse to leave. I don't know if that's because of me, or because Easton wants to spend time near Kennedy, but there's nothing I can do about it. They flashed their fake IDs and managed to score a couple beers, so I guess I'm stuck with them.
As I'm wiping down part of the bar, I hear Easton mutter to Zayn about needing to go to the bathroom. He slips off his stool and heads for the back of the club. Meanwhile, I move to stand directly in front of Zayn.
"You just had to tell him, didn't you?" I complain.
He chuckles. "Wasn't me. I just came so he didn't completely embarrass you."
My brows furrow for a second before it hits me. I grumble under my breath and turn to face my roommate. She's looking down at the ground and pretending she doesn’t know I’m looking at her.
"Kennedy," I say sweetly.
She picks her head up with an innocent grin. "Yes?"
"Did you tell Easton about us working here?"
"No," she answers.
"Kennedy."
"Yes."
I throw the towel in my hand at her and groan. "Why would you do that?"
She exhales with a pout. "It's those eyes, I swear. It's all his fault. Not mine. He forced it out of me."
"You told him so he'd come see you looking like a hot bartender, didn't you?" I say dryly.
Zayn chuckles behind me as Kennedy's grin widens. "Can you really blame me?"
"Yes," Zayn and I answer in unison.
Our gazes lock for a second, but the intensity of it, and the way he's looking at me, causes me to turn away. A customer steps up to the bar, and I give him my undivided attention.
"Welcome to Hypnotic," I greet him. "What can I get you?"
He looks me up and down before licking his lips. "Your number, for starters."
Ew. This guy has to be in his mid-fifties, and it's not like I look much older than my age. His gray hair is thinning, and the suit he's wearing doesn't do anything to help his case. Nor does the plaid tie.
"That's not on the menu, but I'll be happy to get you a drink," I respond politely.
Not taking no for an answer, he purses his lips. "You sure? I'd pay a lot of money for a night with a girl like you."
"You couldn't afford me."
He grins, but it's more of a leer. "Try me."