Closing Time

27.

The early partiers showed up at seven. The hardcore ones tend to show up at eleven or midnight. The bar was almost at full standing capacity despite already having made space for standing bar tables and a dance floor for people drunk out of their minds. The designated drivers of the night were either sitting at the bar and sulking, or relaxing in one of the booths guarding their friends belongings and drinks. Either way they got to avoid the bumping and grinding and snogging going on in front of me.

Dottie had already snapped at a few handsy partiers. Sasha had thrown out a few of them and most of the people here who'd seen him stomp out the kitchen doors wearing black with his flaming chef's hat were wary, to say the least.

We didn't really have a DJ to play the party but usually the crowd coming here was looking for a cheap fun time with no cover charges and no ID checks. I would glance at a few here and there for posterity's sake, but honestly I was enjoying the atmosphere.

The guys were flirting with me in an attempt to get my phone number, the girls were flirting with me to give them free drinks. The drunks were flirting with me incoherently, but I was an expert in that language so I would just hand them another drink and send them back to the dance floor. The designated drivers were trying to flirt with me to lure me over with their sob story of being sober. Atleast the drinks were a hit. Not that all these already drunk people knew what they were chugging anymore.

It was way past midnight now. We were almost approaching one. Dottie was clearly losing her mind having to run around in heels, Miranda had worked for a while and then been picked up by one of Dottie's friend to be taken back home at twelve. Sasha was running around in the kitchen keeping up with the mad case of munchies these horribly costumed people had.

Something that looked like a cockroach walked up to me, slurring every word it spoke. I nodded. "Two taps. Coming up."

I did recognise the thanks as he took the glasses and walked away, sloshing more than half of it on his very brown suit. I eyed a rogue ice cube on the dance floor. All these drunk auras were mixing together. Greens, blues, pinks, oranges but all of them a muddy and dull. It felt like I was looking at the world through a screen with the wrong settings.

The bell dinged, I barely glanced up from the margarita. "Happy Halloween." I mumbled half-heartedly, as I dipped the glass in salt.

"Happy Halloween, Ryleigh."

I barely made out the voice through the throbbing music, but I recognised it. My head shot up and a sharp tingle of electricity shot down. "Trace?" I spoke breathily, surprise taking over. "What... What are you doing here?"

He laughed, shirtless with red suspenders leading down to bright yellow pants and... He was a sexy fireman. "You look amazing." He grinned at me, looking over whatever was visible from the other side of the counter. "The eyes..." He tapped his cheek. "... are a good effect."

The sclera lens weren't actually as uncomfortable as I thought they'd be. "Uh, thanks." Did I dip this glass in salt yet? "You look pretty hot too."

"Thanks." He snickered. "Nice pun too."

"Right..." I... wasn't thinking. My mind had gone blank with the mix of exhaustion and a hot guy in front of me. "Uh, yeah. I'll get to your order in a minute."

"Oh, sure. Take your time. My friends can wait."

I grabbed the shaker, filling it and starting to shake it as I turned to him. "What friends?"

Trace snickered, rolling his green eyes. "Hilarious. They're right here." I turned to look at where he was pointing, seeing a bunch of them standing in the corner talking. They were all laughing.