He was enticing in every way. The way his body moved swiftly around the ring as I watched him from behind the bar. He was the best. And the best never loses.
When Blake Anderson gets a job as a bartender at the local fight club, Chargers, she meets...
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I'm behind the bar when he steps up into the ring.
He winks.
And the horn is blown.
Hot.
My mind is blurred and my eyes shake as I watch his fists fly through the air at the poor man who volunteered. Why any man would volunteer against an undefeated champion is just beyond me, but they frequently do it anyway.
Men, I swear.
Harry didn't hold back in the slightest. He always acted as if he was fighting for his life.
People are asking me for drinks, but honestly I can't even focus while he's inside the ring. His agility and presence being overpowering enough, not even taking into the fact his brutal strength to anyone who steps in his way.
My fear for him is always astronomical. He's hiding something I know. I have a very good feeling I'll figure it out soon. His attitude in the locker room was a clear sign of that, the fact that he was scared I'd leave him.
Who was Harry Styles?
Why didn't I know the man I've spent so much time with?
I didn't know and I have a feeling if I did, I wouldn't want to tell anyone.
He's almost scared of himself, he's scared of the person he is within his own skin. I wonder who made him like that. I think of his father, who he specifically told me to stay away from.
How ironic.
When his father came up to me at the bar once, the man's presence was off from the beginning. He gave me a very very bad vibe and I was uncomfortable, but I tried to play it off like I wasn't.
Now looking back on the situation I shouldn't have even engaged in a conversation with the unknown man especially when he started asking about Harry. He summed it up to curiosity, but I didn't buy it.
He wanted to know things. He wanted information I had, or at least that's what I thought.
While in this industry of bartending, you deal with drunks all the time. And I can't even legally drink myself, but I do it anyway.
Bartending is an art. It's a science. It's a math. Formulating drinks of all sorts.
I love the complication of my job.
Harry is winning the match right now, obviously. The poor common folk is getting his ass beat. It's honestly embarrassing for him and a total bruise to his ego.
I'm not routing for the common man this time. I'm routing for Harry.
My Harry.
"Hey lady!" A drunk man calls and catches my attention, "Get me a beer would you?"
