Burn Me Like the Sun

I nearly rammed into the woman who was standing just outside the door. Her tall heels smacked against the hardwood floors as she stumbled back, her clutch pressed to her chest as she eyed me angrily, a scowl pulling at her red lips.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stuttered, taking a wary step back. My tray was nearly knocked off my shoulder with how hard I had jerked back, and my back was all but flush against the doorjamb behind me. I ducked my head, keeping my eyes on the floor as a blush stained my cheeks. The last thing I needed was some celebrity’s girlfriend blabbing to Margaret about my lack of tact when it came to walking of all things.

I at least had a good guess that she was someone’s girlfriend and not a musician herself. I didn’t think I’d seen her in the brick-stacked magazines Valenti kept in his van, and with the way her finely manicured nails were styled, long and wide and perfectly painted, there was no way she played an instrument.

She brushed her long, wavy brunette hair over her shoulder, eyeing me furiously. Her chin was nearly perpendicular to the floor as she stared me down, one of her finely plucked eyebrows arched and exposing the only wrinkles that cracked through her professionally applied makeup.

“Good,” she said, her voice clipped. Her venom-red lips were in a straight line, her face completely devoid of everything but subdued anger, like the white coals at the pit of a smoky grill. “If I catch the help mucking about again, your boss won’t have to worry about never finding another party to cater.”

My head shot back up as my eyes all but dried up with how far they were popping out of my skull. I set my jaw, willing the muscles in my face to unhinge from the sneer I could already feel crawling under my skin. I licked my lips and sidestepped the girl, who was probably somewhere around my age, if not a couple years older. Even so, her makeup did an excellent job at making her look like a desperately vain, Botox-sucking clown with a fashion sense, especially with the skin-tight navy dress that was hugging her hips. I pushed the door behind me open and let her stalk past me into the event hall. My nerves were shot as she glared at me one last time, her sharp perfume snapping me out of my sedated, celebrity-shocked state.

I tore down the corridor, fully aware I couldn’t keep up serving the clientele for the rest of the night, not anymore. Not with Niall already tracking my every move with everything but a map and compass, and especially not when some random, prissy socialite – or whatever birth right she held that entitled her to act like an absolute cunt – had me in her crosshairs.

Only belatedly did I remember that it was verging on ten minutes since the first round of appetizers had been sent out. With all the servers still out in the event hall, the kitchen was going to be nearly empty since it usually took a good half hour until everyone needed refills. I realized this as I stumbled through the swinging doors of the kitchen, pushing them open with my back as I gripped my tray against my stomach. I made a quick sweep of the kitchen and spotted Valenti and Peter, along with a couple of harried assistants and our two bartenders, who were huddled in a corner mixing drinks.

Valenti saw me first, but he didn’t say a word, and instead settled with a frown as his nostrils flared. His eyes locked with mine for a split second before he looked away, busying himself with a hock of grilled pork that had yet to slice up.

“Blake?”

I glanced at Peter, who was drying his hands as an assistant stalked past him for the freezer in the back.

“Why are you back so soon?” he asked as I made my way to his table. I set down my tray and shook out my sore arms.

“I need a refill,” I told him, staring at the table.

He scoffed. “You don’t need a refill. You’ve still got half the food on your tray.”

I straightened up and rolled my eyes at him. “It was all eaten by a single man-child. If I don’t stock up now, he’ll inhale all of my appetizers before anyone else can get to them.”

“Then just don’t offer him the food,” he said, pulling my tray towards him as he frowned, clearly unimpressed. “Bring out the offense. I can’t have wasters gobbling all the appetizers so early.”

I shook my head, giving Peter a tired look. “Impossible. He’s seeking me out.”

“What? He fancy you or something?”

I shrugged, looking off to the side. “Or something.”

“How about she helps with the liquor?” Valenti called out, his voice thick and taut. He ducked his head, his eyes focused on the knife in his hands as he sliced the pork. He didn’t pay Peter and me any mind as he went on cutting the food, slowly and carefully like he was trying to buy some time while I was hanging out in the kitchen so he didn’t have to interact with me.

“Fine, then.” Peter sighed, shaking his head at Val as he sucked in his lips between his teeth. “If you’re not gonna be walking the food, go ahead and bring some drinks ‘round,” he told me, pointing over his shoulder to Rudy and Luke, our in-house bartenders.

The two of them were huddled in the corner behind a table piled high with alcohol and an array of serving glasses. Both of them were blushing and sweating, their hands flying over a rainbow of liquor. Luke was tall and lean, even taller than Peter, with grungy strawberry hair that always looked like it needed a wash. Rudy, in contrast, was short and pudgy, with a thick, curly chinstrap that went all the way to his dark sideburns, stopping at his closely shaven head. He always wore the same newsboy cap on top and a set of thick, rectangular glasses. They were kind of like a real-life version of P.J. and Bobby from the Goofy movies, even in personality.

“Everyone’s right picky about their alcohol. It’s tossing the lads through a loop,” he explained, crossing his arms over his chest. “Think you can take some orders?”

“Give me a red cummerbund and I’m set,” I told him, trying to not sound so eager so early in the night.

“That’s my girl,” he exclaimed.

He made his way to Rudy and Luke, snapping his fingers at them. Without a second look, Rudy reached down below the table and pulled out a cummerbund, tossing it at me as he smiled gratefully.

“Now, we’ve got a couple drinks ready. Light on the orders so far. But just bring these out. Then get orders. Real simple,” Luke told me as he set a third drink on a tray. “All of these were in section four. Valenti can show you who ordered what if Patel’s not back yet.”

I started, giving Luke a funny look as he whipped around and reached for some orange peels. “How does Val know who ordered them?”

Peter snorted, walking back to the serving table. “Bastard’s snuck a couple looks already.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” I said, my voice loud enough so that Valenti could hear me. “Is that why you’re still cutting up the food when we’ve already started floating it?” I smugly suggested as I wrapped the cummerbund around my waist.

Valenti looked like he was choking on a handful of lemon drops with the way the corner of his mouth was picked up when he looked at me. He slipped his carving knife back into the rack next to his cutting board with enough force that the wisp and thunk made me jump. My fingers fumbled over the metal clasp behind my back, and I shot Val a haughty look.

Valenti chuckled when he saw me fumble with my cummerbund, fully aware that I was easily scared by sudden loud noises. It was the one of the reasons why I preferred to watch scary movies alone, another being because Val teased me relentlessly after he tagged along when Fran and I went to a midnight showing of classic horror films after an event a year ago. As much as I loved the suspense of a good horror film, especially the older American ones, it wasn’t worth watching them with other people if they were going to take the piss out of me for jumping in my seat every five seconds.

My temper with Valenti had probably the longest fuse compared to everyone else that I had to deal with, but I couldn’t help the blush that lit up my ears and the aggravation that nipped at my fingertips when he chuckled.

“Be quick about it, Val,” Peter told him, taking the knife back out of the block. He nudged him away from the table, going back to slicing the pork. “I still need some help with putting together the tofu.”

Valenti shrugged off his apron and brushed by me for the double doors, his steps brisk and long. I followed him as close as I could, snatching the tray of drinks off the table when I passed Rudy and Luke, the alcohol nearly spilling over the edges.

Val was halfway down the corridor by the time I pushed open the kitchen doors. He set his fists on his hips when he turned around at the sound of the doors swinging shut, and gave me a look flatter than week-old beer.

“No need to rush. I had to grab the drinks,” I explained indignantly.

He just shrugged and started walking again.

“Why are you being so cool with me?” I asked, speedwalking in hopes of catching up to him.

Val stopped at the main entrance to the event hall, his back still turned to me. I scrambled to circle around him and looked up to meet his gaze.

“We’ll talk later, okay? I promise, Val. Just drop the bloody statue imitation already and point me to the people that ordered these drinks, yeah?”

The corner of his mouth picked up, but he didn’t break a sweat, and instead walked past me and pushed the door open with one of his burly arms.

“How do you even have all this memorized anyway?”

He nodded his head to the door, waving me over. “I’ve been paying attention, duckie.”

I scurried to his side, taking a peek at section four near the auction tables as Valenti spoke.

“Louis ordered the vodka Red Bull. Amber drink in the highball glass. Lime wedge.”

I looked down, my brow curling. I should’ve noticed. He was carrying the exact same glass the last time I saw him, the familiar amber liquid dripping all over his hands when he waved his arms as he talked.

Val took a peek inside and pointed to a man in a smoky suit, a crisp bowtie perched just under his chin. “Talisker scotch.” He took a moment scanning the scattered crowds, and made a sound when he spotted the last drink’s owner, a woman in a black, sequined cocktail dress. “Beefeater martini, two halves of an olive, garnished with pepper.”

I gagged and stuck out my tongue. “Sounds proper disgusting.”

“I know, yeah?”

I looked up, and Valenti was staring down at me, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, horses for courses, I suppose,” he muttered, his eyebrows perking up as he glanced away. I could see his cheeks pink as he cleared his throat, and he waved his hand, shooing me back into the party. “Come back when you’ve got like five orders or something. Just don’t forget any of them. If you need it, Rudy’s got some memo pads on him. Just ask.”

I clapped his shoulder before I jumped back into the chaos, giving Val a small nod over my shoulder. He returned it before he let the door shut behind me.

I decided to save Louis’s drink for last, hoping he’d be too preoccupied with a new refill to talk to me while I would be taking other orders. I had a feeling that the only reason Marge got booked for such a high class event last minute was so Louis had a way and an excuse to see me. I knew from one of the few messages he had left where he was actually talking and not mumbling some half-arsed apology that he had already forgotten the way back to my flat again. Admittedly, he would’ve already stopped by otherwise. Though I knew thinking that Louis only got Margaret the job because he wanted to see me made me sound full of myself, especially because he’d already promised that he was going to try and get her name out, I couldn’t help but think him desperate enough to go through with it. And besides, Niall confessing that Louis felt horrible for sneaking into my room backed my theory.

I practically dumped the drinks onto their owners with the force I put behind them, eager to finish up before Niall could find me and talk me half to death. But with the way I was juggling the drinks like I was blindfolded and spun around a dozen times, I was sure the pucker-arsed bitch with the attitude that I bumped into earlier would get her chance to sell me out to Margaret before Niall could get to me. I could only pray Louis would be too preoccupied to even spit out a word before I could tear myself away after delivering his drink. Either way, I could stall both Niall and Louis with shoving the fact that I was actually working at the moment in their faces. But with how both of them were likely tracking me down, I wouldn’t be surprised if they bothered me anyway.

It only took me a couple seconds after handing the man with the bowtie his scotch to spot Louis.

He had his bum planted on the edge of the auction table, the tips of his toes touching the ground. His highball glass was nearly empty against his thigh and his head hung low. He had folded the cuffs of his jumper up his forearms, and I could see a maroon t-shirt peeking out from under the collar. He brushed the tips of his fingers against his hair, which stuck up straight over his head, perfectly styled in place. He was clearly pissed, too, his cheeks a brazen red and his forehead shiny with sweat.

He stood out in the crowd, suddenly quiet and alone, quite the opposite of the talkative, bright-eyed bloke I saw not ten minutes before.

I steeled myself and stalked up to him, his drink balanced at the center of my tray. He didn’t look up until I placed a cocktail napkin at the edge of the tray and shoved the drink under his nose.

“Thank you,” he muttered. He grabbed his drink and replaced it with his empty glass, his eyes still glued to ground.

“You’re welcome,” I replied curtly.

Louis’s head shot up. He looked guilty for a second, the corner of his mouth quirked as he tilted his chin to the side, his brow pinching tightly.

“Did you want another drink?” I asked quickly. I reached down and adjusted my red cummerbund as it started to slip against my waist. When Val spooked me in the kitchen, tightening the clasp had slipped my mind.

“I’m fine, babe.”

I bit back an outright frown, still staring him down, and he ducked his head when he saw that I wouldn’t let up. He distracted himself with the lime slice at the bottom of his glass, sticking the straw between his lips and nudging the wedge around.

I turned around, ready to leave, but I cocked my shoulder back, glancing at him one more time as he sipped his drink. His shoulders were hunched forward, his head still bowed shamefully as he kicked one of his legs back and forth, the toe of his shoe brushing against the carpeted floor.

I left him without another word and made my way to the other end of the event hall, hoping I could will away the guilt that had suddenly burned a hole in my chest and found a roomy place at the pit of my stomach. I cursed silently as I aimed for the exit, my face burning. I wanted to be left alone by everyone I had managed to piss off and just get through the night without getting sacked.

But I had forgotten about Niall until I nearly bumped into him when I came back out to the party, the linen towel I had draped over my arm falling to the floor when my arms flailed as I jumped back.

“Fancy bumping into you. I’ve been trying to find you for the past half hour, Blake,” he told me, picking up my towel and handing it back. His cheeks were a bright red, contrasting easily with the dyed blond quiff at the top of his head.

“Maybe I didn’t wanted to be found,” I retorted, folding the linen back up as best I could and draping it across my arm. “‘Sides, I have work to do, mate. I’m not just running about all willy-nilly because I feel like it. I’m getting paid to be here.”

“So am I,” he twittered smugly, shooting me a pert grin.

I groaned, not even dignifying him with a comeback. “Did you need anything or can I go now?” I asked, already brushing past him for a small group of people chatting at the edge of the dance floor, most of their drinks half-empty.

“I actually wanted to order a pint, but I don’t know who to ask.” He circled around me swiftly and planted himself directly in front of me before I could take another step.

“Red cummerbund,” I explained, the words shooting out of my mouth like popcorn in a microwave. “There’s probably like four waiters like me walking around. You don’t need me to order yourself a drink.”

“So?” He licked his lips and rolled his eyes, giving me a hard look. “I barely know you, but I like you well enough. You’re ten times more interesting than all the baggy twats crawling around here.”

“Then why not hang out with Zayn?” I shot back. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. Or how about Louis? He’s looking right depressed sitting all by his lonesome. I think he misses the attention. Hard enough when half the people here are clambering for the same spotlight.”

“I keep wondering if you’ll ever stop badmouthing me when I’m not around, but I should know you better by now.”

I barely took a glance over my shoulder when I saw Louis circling around me, the straw back between his lips as he sucked on his drink. He was nearly halfway done with the vodka Red Bull I’d brought him just minutes before, the lime bouncing around at the bottom as the amber liquid disappeared faster than a magic trick. His cheeks were a bright red, and his forehead was still matted with sweat; even the edge of his hairline was wet and dark, as if he’d just gotten off stage. His sleeves were hanging around his wrists at different lengths, wrinkled at the cuff.

“You’re a right piece of work, babe,” he said through his straw. I shot up my brow challengingly, and he chuckled scathingly, letting the straw fall from between his teeth. “Oh, please. If I had to work any harder just to be mates, I might as well be trying to shag you,” he admitted, shrugging a shoulder.

“You’re pissed,” I seethed.

“Not your problem.”

“Okay,” Niall stretched out, setting his hand on Louis’s shoulder. He shrugged it off, though, shooting him a dark look. “How about we go find Zayn and regroup? I’m thinking if we leave early, we might beat the traffic.”

“But I already placed some money on a couple items,” Louis told him, switching his drink to his other hand and wiping off his palm on his trousers. “I can’t leave until it’s over.”

Niall groaned loudly, tossing back his head. “Why? I mean, seriously! Why?”

Louis laughed lowly, staring at his drink as he stirred the lime around with his straw. “I could ask the same thing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Niall tossed up his hands, shaking his head like mad. In any other situation, I would have bolted at the chance to get rid of my Siamese twin for the night and his prissy best mate, but Louis fuming into his drink as Niall got impossibly more crimson in the face made my feet sink into the hardwood floor beneath me.

“Blake.”

I tore my eyes from an embarrassed Niall, who was rubbing the back of his neck raw as he had a staring match with the ground.

“What’s the red cummerbund for?” Louis asked, gesturing to my waist with his drink.

“I’m taking drink orders, you dolt,” I quipped, folding my arms. “You’re quite slow on the uptake tonight.”

“I’m on the piss. Give me a break,” he reminded me bitterly.

My eyes flicked just over Louis’s shoulder to a shadowy figure surfacing from the darkened corner of the room. Then, as they crossed into the light of the dance floor, I finally made it out to be the same woman that I nearly ran into in the corridor as she stalked across the room. I couldn’t help a sneer in her direction, still eerily pissed off by her simmering reaction.

People like her weren’t that common when we worked, mostly because we hadn’t had much of an occasion until now to be catering events where people expected every hair on every server’s head to stay put. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had the unfathomable joy of serving stuck-up pricks like her before, the insufferable self-righteous twits that constantly questioned why they were even at the event in the first place, but this woman made it seem like her eternal happiness was based on Marge’s performance for the night.

I had a hard time tearing my eyes off of her as she sashayed over to a chattering group and nudged her way into the conversation. Louis eventually followed my empty gaze, his eyes easily gravitating to her all the way across the room. His clenched jaw went slack and his face paled, despite the alcohol that had burned his cheeks.

“Did you want another vodka Red Bull or what?” I offered tentatively. When he didn’t answer after a brief stretch of uncomfortable silence, I waved my hand in front of his face. His eyes flicked to mine, and he sneered.

“What, do you know her or something?” I asked, nodding my head in the girl’s direction.

Louis ignored my question completely, instead busying himself with giving Niall a look I had never seen before, his eyebrows slanted upwards as he sucked in his cheeks, looking almost bored.

“If you want another drink, make it quick. I still need to take orders from the rest of the bores around here before Marge sees me mucking about.”

Louis gave me a blank look then, blinking once, before looking across the hall once again. I followed his gaze, my interest still piqued, and scanned over the crowds across the dance floor. My eyes finally landed on her again, now busy talking with a freakishly tall man in a buzz cut that looked oddly enough a lot like a younger Vinnie Jones.

When I turned back around, Niall was glancing at the side of Louis’s head, his lips pulled between his teeth. He looked back at me and his features melted, leaving behind a grin that only got wider when I shot him back the smallest smile I could coax from myself at the moment.

“You done checking out the bird across the room or do you want me to go and grab something to wipe off the drool from your chin while we’re waiting?” I asked Louis, giving him a petulant look.

Louis scoffed, finally ripping his gaze from her arse. He took one last, long sip of his drink as he pinned his gaze on me, his forehead wrinkling. “You’re imaging things, babe, because I’m not staring.” He crossed his arms, then, and nodded at me. “What are you on about?”

“Right. Well, em, she nearly tore my head off when we ran into each other,” I quickly explained, adjusting my cummerbund with one hand as I ducked my head. “Sure acts like she’s got a stick where the sun don’t shine.”

Niall barked out a laugh, quickly covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked off to the side.

“What?” I asked Niall. “Do you know her or something?”

“No,” Louis answered, shaking his head. Niall’s brow shot up as Louis sucked up the last of his drink, the sound cutting through some drum and bass remix the DJ had put on. “And with the way she looks, I wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her.”

“Do you have any Harp?” Niall asked me, his words overlapping Louis’s. He took a step closer as he folded his arms.

I bit my lip and nodded. “Marge actually started carrying it a few weeks ago. Did you want me to get you a bottle?”

“Please. If I can’t keep following you around everywhere, then I might as well aim for getting smashed, yeah?” he suggested.

I smiled and clapped his shoulder, my muscles straining as I shamelessly returned his smile. I turned towards Louis, who was busy pushing the lime around the bottom of his glass with his straw. “And you, your royal knobness?”

His head whipped back, the straw still stuck in between his teeth. I got flicked with a few drops, but brushed it off, instead settling with shooting him a sour look.

“I guess,” he said, sucking air through his straw. “Bring me another vodka Red Bull, then. And please, don’t be stingy with the vodka this time, yeah?”

I came back around with the drinks after taking a few other odd orders, from whiskey with coconut water and a bottle of Stella garnished with nutmeg. I knew that Niall would try to stall me again, even if he had a beer in his hands, so I saved his and Louis’s drinks for last.

I found them huddled together next to one of the circular tables scattered about the hall, right next to the auction photographs. Louis was pushing up the sleeves of his jumper past his elbows as he leaned against the edge of the table next to Niall, who had his bum planted in a chair. Behind him, leaning against the back of his chair, was a super-tan, skinny bloke with smoky eyes and meticulously styled stubble. His black hair was dyed with a faded shock of blond, and it stuck up straight over his head. His white suit brought out his dark features, especially coupled with the plain black v-neck under his sports jacket and the straw fedora precariously balanced atop his head.

My knees may have given in a little when I saw him.

“I hope you’re half as sane as these two put together,” I announced as I walked up, Louis’s and Niall’s last two drinks balanced at the edge of my tray. “Zayn, right?”

The bloke smiled softly and leaned forward against Niall’s chair. “Yeah, that’d be me.” He extended his hand, and I took it, just barely squeezing his fingers before I had to take back my hand to balance my teetering tray. “Blake Eaton, yeah?”

I smiled past how awkward and juvenile it felt to be called by my full name and nodded at Zayn. “Aye.”

“That my beer?” Niall questioned excitedly, planting his hands on his knees and shooting up from his chair.

I nodded and reached for the bottle opener I kept in my pants pocket, popping the cap off before I grabbed it by the neck and handed it over. Niall took a generous first sip, wiping the foam off his lips with the back of his hand.

He sighed with satisfaction. “That hits the spot.”

“Don’t drink too fast or I won’t be able to keep up,” I warned.

“You seem to be able to keep up with me,” Louis mumbled, his words jumbled from his palm pressed into his jaw. He had his elbow planted in his other hand, and he stared at me as he spoke. A lethargic, drunken smile picked up the corner of his mouth as he watched me fumble with my tray at the sound of his voice.

“You’re grinning like a cat that’s just swallowed a mouse whole. It’s really freaking me out, mate,” I muttered as I offered Louis his perspiring highball glass. “What? You busy brewing up some evil plan in that hairspray-coated noggin of yours?”

His smile deflated like a balloon: slowly at first, but then it crumbled into a deep frown, his chin dimpling. He reached over and plucked his drink from my hand, his previous glass mysteriously missing from his grasp. I would have bet every last quid in my wallet – not that it was much – that he dropped it on the ground and left the shattered glass without a second thought. He at least seemed drunk enough to have caused such a mess, with his cheeks a blotchy red and his unshaven upper lip dotted with sweat.

“You can blame the vodka for this prick’s attitude,” Zayn sighed, shaking his head at Louis as he started in on his drink, a frown still pulling down his lips. “Trust me when I say he’s a more entertaining drunk when he’s not all moody.” His ears turned pink as he carefully avoided my curious gaze.

“I’m not moody,” Louis countered, finally taking his mouth off his straw. He plucked the lime from the rim and plopped it in. Some of the amber liquid splattered onto his jumper, but he just wiped it off with a flippant brush of his hand. He stirred the lime wedge around with the straw, then took another long sip as he eyed his sober band mate, looking nearly as drained as his drink was quickly becoming.

“Did you want something from the bar, love?” I asked Zayn, touching his arm to steal his attention from Louis.

He shrugged indifferently, cocking his chin to the side. “A Coke sounds nice.”

I made a surprised noise. “What, you driving these two tossers home?”

Niall’s lips obnoxiously smacked together as he pulled his beer from his mouth, the bright pop ringing my ears. “I take offense to that,” he piped up, pointing at me with the bottle. “But then again, there’s always some truth to your words.”

I pulled a face. “Ugh. You’re repulsive.”

Niall grinned proudly as Zayn chuckled behind him, shaking his head.

I wanted to indulge in the sight of Louis standing there in front of me, not even flinching when Niall and Zayn laughed and staring into his highball glass like it would teleport him back to his flat so he could be alone, but it was difficult. Ever since I stepped out of Valenti’s van before the event started, I’d nearly been giddy with resentment towards Louis. I practically rehearsed the speech I would’ve given him if he even so much as glanced in my direction. I was angry and frustrated at him for invading my privacy when he knew better, but seeing the boy standing there in front of me, a sad drunk with nothing but a mixed drink to keep him company, tore me straight down the middle.

Part of me wanted to be glad Louis was feeling like shit and drowning his feelings in alcohol, but another part of me still liked him, even if I was trying to fight it. We were getting along famously before he snuck into my room, and even though he let me down like that, it couldn’t stop me from still wanting to be mates with him, as much as I hated to admit it.

“If it’s all the same to yous, I have to get back to work. I’ll have someone bring you that Coke,” I said to Zayn. He only nodded thankfully, and beamed as he pulled out his mobile. “So, em… So I’ll see you later?”

Even though I was talking to all three of them, I couldn’t help but linger on Louis, who was staring at my feet in front of him as he blew bubbles in his already half-empty drink.

He finally looked up after a couple seconds, and I tore my eyes from him, instead busying myself with tucking my tray under my arm as a warmth spread across the back of my neck.

“Is that some sly way of saying goodbye, or will you actually see me later?”

I swallowed hard and chanced a look at Louis. He was still staring at me.

“I mean, I can see you later,” I said, shrugging once. “If you want.”

His mouth screwed up as he desperately tried to hide a smile. He wasn’t very successful though, and settled with taking another sip of his drink as he looked off to the side. I glanced at Niall and Zayn, but only Niall paid the two of us any attention, rolling his eyes as he took another swig of his Harp. Zayn was too busy typing on his phone to even look up.

“Let’s take a photo.”

I snapped my head back to Louis, giving him an expectant look. “You have fun with that,” I told him as he scrambled to grab the balding event photographer by the arm as he walked past the four of us, adjusting his lens. Louis nearly made the man trip and fall over as he dragged him over to where I was standing. “But I need to get back to the—”

“Nonsense.” Louis pressed, nudging the photographer next to me and letting him take my place. Then he pulled me forward by my wrist, his hand warm and chapped. “You’re gonna take one with us. Don’t even try bullshitting your way out of it because I’m not having it.”

I stumbled next to him, nearly ramming my tray into his chest, and scoffed. “Is this the fun-drunk side of you coming out?”

“Maybe,” he teased, shooting me a quick grin. He gestured for Niall to stand up, and he begrudgingly obliged, letting Louis throw an arm over his shoulder after he set down his beer and pushed back his chair. He motioned Zayn to join us with his chin, then wrapped his arms around Louis’s and Zayn’s shoulders.

I could already feel a blush burning my cheeks thanks to a couple of servers that were staring at me from across the room, but it multiplied another ten times when I felt Louis hesitantly snake his arm around my waist.

“Try a little higher there, Casanova,” I quipped, nudging his hand from the curve of my hip with my tray.

I could see him glance at me from the corner of my eye, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “Right. Sorry,” he apologized quietly.

He promptly moved his hand around my shoulders, and pulled me closer to his side just before the photographer snapped a shot of us. I could easily see the old man’s winkled face screw up in confusion as he crouched forward and adjusted the lens.

Even though I was the only one who had the whole story about why one of the wait staff was palling around with one half of a multi-million dollar boy band, I was still at a loss myself. I had gone from fuming at the thought of simply catching a glimpse of Louis to taking a fucking photo with him and his mates. It was the camera flash that jolted me to this realization and sent me reeling.

The second the photographer left after Louis handed him a handsome tip, I started towards the exit, but stopped short when Louis called after me. Since I didn’t want to make any more of a scene than I already had all night by chumming it up with the boys, I turned back around. I willed myself to give up the sour look I had plastered across my face, but no such luck. I was grimacing even worse than when I’d force myself to do a batch of dishes.

“Can you bring me another?” Louis stuttered, tapping the rim of his cup as he smiled weakly.

I walked back up to Louis and plucked it from his grasp. He made a high-pitched noise, the corner of his mouth screwing up as he pushed himself off the table where he was already sitting.

“You’ve had, what? Three of these?” I clicked my tongue at him and shook my head.

He looked guilty for a second as he reached up to pinch the back of his neck, but I added it up to him having lost his bearings, as he was well on his way to getting smashed if he wasn’t there already. He was already teetering in front of me like a Jenga tower and he’d been standing up for all of five seconds.

“That’s almost an entire pint of vodka, mate. I’m cutting you off,” I declared, handing back his glass.

“Why?” He snatched back his drink and sneered. “I’m doing just fine. I’m not… You’re not… I can hold my liquor!” he finally got out, looking frustrated. “Fetch me another,” he begged. “I promise I won’t bother you again.”

“I’d rather you wake up with a skull-splitting hangover in the morning than choke on your own vomit while you sleep,” I admitted, my voice tight. “I’ll get you a water bottle or some pop or even some coffee if I can swing it, alreet?”

The middle of his brow pinched together, and the winkles in his forehead made a brief appearance before he rubbed his palm over them.

“Never mind, then,” he grumbled, tucking his chin to his chest. He carefully ran his fingers over his bangs before tossing a glance over his shoulder at Niall, who was back to sucking on his beer like it was his mother’s tit. “I’m goin’ to look for the loo,” he told him, throwing up the hand that held his drink.

Then he brushed by me, but not after shooting me a resentful look, his cheeks a brazen pink.

“I thought I was going to have to dump his next drink on the floor. I was getting worried there for a minute,” Niall admitted, setting down his beer between his legs. “At least you know him well enough to—”

“Know him?” I repeated bitterly. I grinned mockingly and rolled my neck, then turned on my heel and followed Louis’s footsteps to the corridor, ignoring the shock on Zayn’s face and the matching worry on Niall’s.

I hoped I wouldn’t find Louis moping in the hallway on my way back to the kitchen. I didn’t need an unruly drunk under my belt, not when Marge could be lurking around. I wouldn’t put it past my boss to demote me back as a kitchen slug working for Valenti if she knew I’d been shirty with Louis – even just an incoherent, lunatic, smashed off his bollocks Louis.

After I’d rattled off to Rudy and Luke the orders I had memorized and grabbed a clean tray to collect empty drinks, I sat on a table in the corner of the kitchen, just watching everyone work. A few wait staff filed in and out while I rested my legs, shuffling their trays back for refills to Valenti and Peter and then rushing back out.

Valenti kept stealing glances at me as I waited for the feeling to get back into my feet. I caught him a few times, and when he saw me staring back, he’d duck his head and go back to refilling the trays.

I didn’t expect him to come over to where I was sitting, especially because Marge was bound to come barreling through the kitchen doors with some absolute crisis at any minute. She didn’t like it when food floaters rested their feet while we were still busy. But Valenti took a chance anyway and walked over, his snapback tucked under his arm and he slid in next to me.

“You going back out any time soon or are you just gonna hide away from Louis until the night’s over?”

I paused, thinking over my words as I glanced at Val’s sweaty profile. “How do you know I’ve been talking to Louis?”

“You’re the only one who keeps bringing in the vodka Red Bull orders,” he told me smugly, shooting me a half-hearted smile.

“Oh.” I nodded my head and looked back out at the kitchen, which had died down almost the second Val had walked over to me. “Have you seen Marge anywhere?”

“Yeah.” He nodded his head and jerked his chin to the corridor. “She’s taking care of money business or some shite in one of the private rooms. Said to me to warn ya that if you were too busy hiding away from a certain, y’know, pop star that she would have some words for you.”

“I’m not hiding,” I told Valenti defiantly. “I’m resting me feet.”

“Tomato, tomato,” he said, weighing his hands in front of him. “Just wotcher, yeah?”

I nodded, folding my arms against my chest as Valenti hopped off the table. “Yeah.”

Dreading being caught lounging about when I’d mostly strayed from the red zone all night, I finally emerged from the kitchen a moment later. I was telling Valenti the truth: I hadn’t been hiding from Louis. Okay, maybe I took my time while resting my feet, but for good reason. I had to be at least half-certain that he was done mucking about in the toilets and back inside, carousing to his heart’s content before I came back out.

But when I nudged open the door to the corridor, it hit me – again – that tonight was definitely not my luckiest night.