Soul Strip [Jeon Jungkook™] - HIATUS

Chapter One

Sophie

"Sophie, take this beer and the tequila shot to table eleven, please." I got up from my seat and nodded to the guy across the counter from me.

My legs were already getting numb from standing next to the bar, patiently waiting for someone to either finish their damn drink or order something new. But nothing seemed to change, the same customers from an hour ago were still at their tables, either halfway through their drinks or already finished and just chatting playfully to the faint sound of music in the background.

"Sophie!" the masculine voice called out to me once again and I flinched. Lost in my own thoughts, I had completely forgotten about his request. 

I gave him a small, apologetic smile and turned around, watching him press his perfectly shaped lips into a firm line, raising an eyebrow toward me. It felt as if he was silently communicating with me, his words being something along the lines of "do your fucking job, I'm not in the mood to deal with your light-headed ass today".

I picked up the tray from the counter where he had left it and turned around, my heels clicking with each step I took. I approached the table slowly to make sure the drinks would not spill. The two men sitting in it fell silent as I approached. One of them, the one whose back faced me, turned around. I almost gasped.

One of them was tall and had dark hair that fell on his forehead in perfectly shaped waves. The other was a lot shorter than the first male and he had blonde hair, although the brownish roots were already showing. They looked at me as if they could swallow me whole, eat me alive right there and then. Their eyes seemed to shimmer in contempt as I finally fully stood by their table, tray in hand. Even though I was in uniform, it felt as if they were seeing me naked. My skin was warm, but that didn't stop the stubborn goosebumps. 

I could not decide if I wanted to say something to them. Hell knew that in my job description there was no rule about ignoring clients as long as I served them well. Most people did not pay an outrageous amount of money for a drink to be bothered to make polite conversation with the waitress. Still, as I stood and looked at them, the blond one lifted an eyebrow expectantly. I cleared my throat, but my voice seemed to leave me whenever I always needed it the most. 

"Your drinks," I muttered quietly, my words fading into the music that was playing on the speakers. 

I grabbed the beer and he took it from my hands. 

"Thank you..." he stopped talking and narrowed his eyes toward my chest. It's not like I wasn't used to having clients look at me like that, speak to me as their eyes lost on my legs or other parts of my body. Sometimes, they even commented on it, as if it were something to be proud of achieving and not some random genetical coincidence. 

I shifted from my left to right leg, crossing both arms in front of my chest. Every staff member at this bar was good-looking. We served an experience to our clients. Good looks, ambiance, and drinks made our trademark. That's why we were the most popular place in town. With a job like this, it was known that there were some types of behaviours from the clients we were told to ignore from day one. 

It's not harassment if they do not make a move on you. Relax and just do your job. Be polite. Smile more. Open just one more button. 

He smirked in amusement and his friend just rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by my presence. My cheeks burned in embarrassment, and I couldn't grasp what was happening, so I turned around and sighed, ready to leave their table after placing the tequila shot right in front of the other man. He only eyes my movements carefully, not saying a word. I wondered if he was able to speak at all.