Nights like this.
But one last pint to pour. And, with the glass in her fingers, she moves. Bites her lip, as she grins for the golden beer sparkling in the glass. If it has to end – she slams the pint on the bar, a giggle slips past her lips as the head foams over her hand. He raises his eyebrows. The question’s there, but instead of asking, he hands over his credit card, “And one for yourself, darling.”
“Oh, and I need it, sir.” With a wink she spins, finishing the account.
“Hey,” he shouts again.
She only looks up from the till.
“Hey,” he smile. “Can I get your number. My friend wants to give you a call.”
Pulling her lips tight, she aims for a smirk. Hopes it will be enough to distract him from her eyes. The sting is rising. “I can’t -”
“Come on, he’s a good guy.”
“I’m sure, but – I leave tomorrow.” That bite of emotion, “It’s my last night…”
– – –