Chapter Text
𝑅𝐼𝐿𝐸𝑌 𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸𝐿𝐼𝑆
The screech of tap hinges brought a wine-filled haze to Riley's mind, the buttery foam of beer ice-cold against their hand while tenders moved around them like a hive. Warmth of breath, warmth of skin; it was all such a type of intimate that Riley didn't think could be found anywhere else aside from the bedroom. So many customers. The drunk smiles on their faces as they paused from lively chatter to slide change over the counter felt intimate too. Distant at the same time. Offering a smile to someone you hardly knew seemed intimate to Riley, at least.
The least intimate thing in the room was lounging across from them in the bar.
"I'll take another pint." A loud burp, followed by a snicker.
Jesus fucking Christ, if anyone could stop Riley from romanticising their cheap-trick side gig, it was that stringy emo that had been following them for two weeks like spit-stained gum on a shoe - Leroy, or as Riley had oh-so-kindly named him, Jax. Short for Jackass. The sight of the man burping across from them very well nearly ruined their whole week.
"If you don't get behind this counter and start working your bony ass like your rent is due, which it actually is, I swear to God I will spit in this beer."
"Aw, so you're going to pour me a beer?" Jax's pupils constricted, growing so large under the low bar light that he looked like a rabbit.
"Shut up. Why aren't you working? Does your apartment pay itself?" Riley slid two shots over the counter, snatching up the change before Jax's greedy hands could land on it. The pasty thing sitting across from them could wait for his damn beer. They still had peak-hour drunkards and burnout fathers to tend to on the other side of the bar. Another bartender squeezed past the steady flow of skin on skin in the crevice between counter and kitchen, shoving Riley into the tap slightly. Butterscotch-hazed beer freckled onto their shirt.
Jax, halfway through grabbing the money from the counter before Riley could, stopped in his tracks to cross his arms over his chest. "My shift is over, Zoob."
The words flowed as nicely as chunky peanut butter. Jax, out of respect and due diligence to honour Riley's name-calling, picked up a habit of calling them Zoob. It had significantly less bite to it than jackass, but Jax had insisted it was what he used to make fun of them. "Because you're like those stupid Zoob toys. You switch up and get piercings and tattoos like it's changing a plastic leg on a toy."
It was a stupid nickname. And Riley wasn't listening to anyone who still wore their hair like a My Chemical Romance heart throb impersonator.
"Then go home. Stop bugging me and let me make money, I'm just as broke as you. Living on campus is a fucking nightmare."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. The people next to me are obsessed with Midwest emo. Do you have any idea what it's like waking up in the middle of the night to the blistering sounds of Scott Pilgrim VS My GPA? No, you don't. Go bother someone who makes a bang for buck here, I'm clinging onto each dollar and you're distracting me."
"Hmm..." he tapped one finger on his chin, "no. But if you pour me another pint, then I guarantee you'd make more money than if you hadn't."
God. Maybe if he was drunk enough, Riley would be granted with the sweet release of the emo bum in front of them shutting up. It was an appealing thought. Snatching their chance at a break in the ever-flowing crowd of customers, Riley watched as the froth spilled over the meniscus of the glass while it slid across the counter.
Jax looked surprised. His pupils grew larger in that creepy way that reminded Riley of a rabbit and tilted his head. He really was like a rodent.
"See? How hard was that?"
"Another word and I'm pouring as much undiluted Smirnoff in there as possible."
A rare laugh bubbled over the rim of the glass as he took a large swig. "Okay, okay. I'm silent."
Riley shifted from the taps, grabbing a towel to pat away the stain of beer from their shirt. It was still slipping off rush hour - every drunkard and his dog felt it inevitable to go and get blackout at the perfect time while Riley happened to be working. Of course, it still felt homely to them, ignoring the archetypal emo boy downing a pint before them. The hum of voices felt like everything calming; the buzz of a tattoo needle, the low thrum of bass that played through cheap headphones, the soft snores their roommate made while she drifted to sleep. Riley always enjoyed the comfort of a background noise to guard the walls of their mind. It reminded them that they were never alone, which they didn't need to worry about either way - they were crammed in between rush hour over-the-counter traffic and cocktails being shaken. Jesus Christ, they had to stop worrying about romanticising their life and start concerning themselves with the very real threat of getting turned into a sandwich between the bar and whichever lesbian was tending a middle-aged man on the other side.
Jax laughed as they narrowly escaped getting compressed. Despite frazzled, Riley stuck out a finger before his mouth could hinge open.
"Not a word. I didn't avoid death by sandwich press just to hear you make fun of me."
"How long's left of your shift?"
"Like..." Riley searched until they found their watch, tucked somewhere away in their pocket. How it got there, Riley had no idea. They fixed it to their wrist and checked the time. "...I don't know, an hour? But rush hour stops in about fifteen minutes, if I'm lucky. There'd better be a good reason for you asking that question. I'm getting out the Smirnoff."
"Slow down fruit loop, don't get too trigger-happy. I wanted to know how many more beers I can scam off of you before your shift ends or you kick me out."
"I'd have less of a problem with you bugging me right now if I didn't have fifty other customers to attend, jackass. Get ou-"
"Before you kick me out, I was also gonna tell you there's a girl in the corner that looks like she walked in here expecting it to be a coffee shop."
Riley just rolled their eyes. "Nice fucking try."
Jax raised his hands in the air, black hair falling over his face. His pupils dilated in an almost cartoonish, almost creepy fashion. "I'm dead serious. Miss Gangle over there, the shy loser one. Look." He pointed to a girl shrouded in red light. Riley squinted over the bar.
She was gangly, Jax was right. Under the red lighting, her skin looked like cherry coke - rounded cheeks and an angular nose shrouded by ribbon-like veils of deep brown hair. She held herself with a fragile stem of confidence that seemed to have died long before she set foot into the bar. Riley could see her in a coffee shop, maybe a bar if she was holding a pretty crystal glass filled with wine the same shade as her lips, but never in such a dingy place such as where they worked. She didn't suit the ugly, beer-stained men; Riley didn't know how they had missed her before. She was too pretty to ignore in a dull, unattractive space, like a rose sitting flourished in a bed full of long-wilted cabbages.
"Stop tripping over yourself."
Riley's face went as bright a red as the light the girl was bathed in. They gave Jax a sharp look, leaning against the bar.
"I'm not tripping over." Just to contradict politely, their hand decided to slip agains the sweat-slick wooden top and send Riley stumbling.
"That was beer on the counter. Fuck off." They said quickly as the brushed themselves off. "I didn't slip."
"Right. That was a stylish loss of coordination anyway, Sinatra."
"Shut up. You're not funny." They didn't take their eyes off the knee-length lace skirt the girl was wearing. It fitted like a glove.
"I never said I was." Jax watched as Riley kept their head glued in the direction of the girl. "You're no better than a man, holy shit. Should I get you a pair of binoculars?"
"No. Shut up, I'm not even looking." They ran their eyes over the girl's face again, clearing their throat and standing up straight. They had a glorious two seconds of their legs functioning correctly before they were shoved back into the bar by a tender. If Jax's muffled laughter wasn't pissing them off, they'd be lying - Riley couldn't decide wether to let their embarrassment kill them or to drag Jax down with them.
"I mean, if you're gonna gawk, at least get a little closer. Go talk to the loser. You'd make a great boring, wimpy couple."
"I'm not gawking. I'm... observing before I approach." Riley pushed off the bar with what was an attempt at nonchalant. If they stared at the floor, maybe they'd forget what she looked like and stop falling over every five seconds. "If anyone asks where I've gone, say I'm helping out a customer."
"I could think of a couple ways you could help her-" The wiggling of his thick eyebrows was frozen dead by Riley's marble stare.
The beat of Riley's shoes into the wooden floors was drowned out by the off-kilter singing of drunken voices. The girl was standing, curled into herself, by a corner near the tacky pool table. She had a white ribbon in her hair, and she was holding onto a small paper notepad as if it would stop the smell of a dozen tipsy men from curling into her nose. She looked like a dream. Riley wasn't sure that talking to her would even be the right idea - if she was, in fact, a dream, Riley never wanted to wake up. They were drinking up the lace skirt and red velvet jumper, the layers of silk like buttercream folding under deep red fabric, when the words fell out of their mouth before they could gather them and slip each neatly back into their mind.
"Is there anything I can help you with?"
Riley wanted to die. They wanted to roll over at the girl's feet and pass away right there.
The girl flinched at the voice, then softened when she realised it wasn't another sloppily-drunken man. "Oh, uh- you work here, right?"
"Sadly." Riley said before they could stop themselves.
What. The. Fuck.
"-Oh my God, yeah, sorry. I work here. Not sadly. This place is great." Their face burned, and they prayed that it wasn't visible. If the lights are red, at least that means my face turning red is normal.
The girl laughed. It sounded like a dove. Riley could see her eyes properly now - a deep ebony, and a kind of large pupil that, unlike Jax, made them feel warm instead of unsettled. "Oh, ok, thank God. Do you have a key to the bathroom? I kind of just... wandered in here to use the bathroom, I didn't expect a whole crowd..." She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. Riley watched the dark hair fall into loose curls behind her hand.
"Of course. And don't worry about being embarrassed that you wandered in here, everyone's too drunk to care. Except the staff, and they'd prefer someone shy and timid over loud and spitting." They gave her a smile.
They were convinced that if they kept this up, they would die of a brain overload. Their mouth felt like it was filled with honey. At least it was sweet, like her.
"I'll be right back with the key."
They weaved their way back through the slowly slimming crowd while their face heated. It was both terrible and a relief to be away from her, whatever her name even was, Riley might never know.
They really hoped they would get to know.
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