Jily Oneshots (pt2)

Hey There, Bartender

by PetalsToFish on archiveofourown.org

His eyes were alluring, dark and framed by a pair of square shaped frames that alluded to intelligence. Lily supposed if she had to place him in a category with another singer, he would've been a comparable likeness to Hozier in sound. Hairstyle too, if this bloke had lighter hair. His jet black curls bounced all over his face as he hung into the mic while playing the piano.

Fuck, he was hot though.

Definitely not from Nashville, but Lily didn't mind that in the slightest.

Country singers from all over Nashville came to the little bar downtown where Lily worked because record labels sent their managers to find singers like her ex-boyfriend all the time. Lily had long since learned to drown out singers, especially male ones, because they only offered distraction from her next tip.

This guy had never been there before, a random singer who'd picked up a slot after some other hopeful singer dropped out for a better gig. Lily would've recognized him, if only because he sounded so different from the normal western twang and deep guitars she was used to hearing.

Working in a Nashville bar had certainly made her learn to hate country music but nothing made her abhor the music more than her ex, Todd. He'd played every hour of every day. He'd spoken with a stupid fake twang and tried really hard to be like a blonder Blake Shelton. In shorter terms, Lily couldn't even look at Blake Shelton without feeling nauseous now.

Lucky for her, this random guy called Potter, he played a mixture of influences like jazz, pop and folk. It was rather intriguing to hear each song he sung, if only because they were different from what she normally heard. She found herself stepping in time to the beat he played on the keys of his piano as she crossed back and forth across the bar top, delivering drinks and finger sandwiches.

"He's a new one." Albus, one of the regular old cowboys, nodded to Potter up on the stage, "can't say I hate him either."

"He'll get picked up fast." Lily agreed, wiping down a ring of water on the bar, "he's cute, talented and can clearly write his own songs."

Lily looked up from her tip collecting to find his hazel eyes back on her as she crooned into his mic. He had a soft, deep voice that Lily imagined she could listen too a long time. The night was slow, Lily leaned on her bar and watched him play. The more she watched him, the more he caught her eye.

It lasted all night, his stares. Lily was only drawn away from Potter and into customer conversation when some of her regulars came in. She was laughing deeply, her fingers pressed on Marlene's shoulders when she realized that Potter had left, ran away, without coming her way.

She tried not to be disappointed. It probably would've never gotten anywhere thanks to Lily's sudden distaste for musicians. It was better for her that he hadn't tried to shoot his shot. She would've just disappointed them both.

And then Potter returned two days later during lunch hour to strum a few chords with a group called The Marauders. He was head of vocals with The Marauders too, but there was something alluring about the man when he sang alone. In the group, he only faded into the mold of another country band trying to make it big. Alone, he shone like a superstar who just loved to sing.

She watched him during the four song set, eyes tracing the form of his jeans (and the ass in those jeans) expectantly. Lunch rush came in and she was forced to pay more attention to the bar than the music. That's why it surprised her when Potter fell into one of the bar seats when he was done playing. She stopped breathlessly in front of him, red creeping up her cheeks from running around delivering drinks.