Wiping down the counter for the millionth time tonight, you were tired. It was 1:30 in the morning and your shift lasted 30 more minutes.
"30 minutes then I'm home!"
You looked around the bar, taking a closer look at some of the customers. One really caught your attention. He's been coming here more often in the past few days and always ordered the same thing, Whiskey.
He was tall and had a sand-ish hair color. What you liked most, were his shiny green eyes. He always wore the same leather jacket and always came alone. You witnessed other waitresses give him their numbers and flirt with him but he just came here to drink.
The other customer that caught your attention was Tom Bradford. A college drop-out, who always came in here to hustle some people at a round of pool. He had tried to get your number too many times and was just a pain in the ass that wouldn't go away.
Wiping the counter again, you saw someone sit down in front of you. It was the mystery guy in leather.
"What can I get for you?"
"Do you still have to ask?"
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He looked at you with a smile that made you weak in your knees. You gave him his usual order and looked around. Tom was hustling people again and whistled at you to come over. You rolled your eyes and went over there.
"Y/n, sweetheart! Get me another beer, will ya?"
You turned around and started to leave but not before he grabbed your ass while you walked away.
"Hands off, Bradford! If you like to keep them!"
"That's why she's my girl. She's got fire!"
You left. He was getting on your last nerve and you only had 20 minutes left to work. You sighed when you stepped behind the counter and opened another bottle. Your mind wandered off to a scenario where you smashed the beer bottle over Tom's head and went home.
Suddenly a deep voice pulled you back into reality.
"Is he your friend or why is he the only one allowed to touch you?"
"Friend? Tom Bradford? I think you had enough of those for tonight!"
He chuckled softly while you refilled his glass.
"Thanks."
You smiled and went to the pool table. Placing the bottle on one of the corners, you turned to leave but Tom had wrapped one arm around your waist and dragged you back. He used to play football, meaning he was a lot stronger than you. The other guys, Tom was playing with, looked at you like a piece of meat.
That's when one of them spoke up.
"Hey Tom! If I win the next round, I get your girl!"
