Bubbles

Chris was that guy. You know, the one that everybody wanted to be associated with. If you knew Chris, you were in for a good time. He was that guy who was sometimes so annoyingly kind and nice, and then you felt guilty for being annoyed at his personality straight away.

I thought I'd struck gold when he flashed me a smile one night and offered to buy me a drink. He'd looked so perfect, all glowing and blonde and warm. He made me laugh, made me feel better about myself. He introduced me to people, took me out on dates, was there whenever I needed him. I trusted him with my life and told him everything about me.

Four months into our relationship, he started asking to borrow money from me, and of course I obliged. How could I not, after everything he'd done for me?

What I didn't realise was that he'd been sleeping around the entire time we were 'together' and was just using the little money I had for his drug habit.

It took me nearly two years to realise it, and that's what hurt the most. The fact that I trusted him completely, and I never realised what he really was. A lying, cheating piece of shit.

I haven't been in a relationship since then and I don't intend to ever again. People just use you and lie to you and toss you aside when the next best thing comes along and catches their attention. People never change.

**************

I wanted to be pissed off that I was working on New Year's Eve, but I couldn't really. I had nowhere else to go, nobody to see, nothing to celebrate. I may as well be working the night shift of one of my jobs instead of sitting around doing nothing, not getting paid.

The creepy drunk and weirdly hot guy from the other night was here again, sat down at a booth tonight with a woman who looked a little older than him. She had electric blue hair and a face full of metal, silver hoops and studs resting through her left eyebrow, dimples and her septum. She was very attractive, but my eyes were still drawn the mystery guy's messy raven locks, piercing hazel eyes and alabaster skin.

He was really something to look at.

The woman stood up and made her way over to the bar, revealing the tight black dress she wore, the deep plunging neckline showing off her cleavage. She smiled at me, leaning over the bar a little.

"Bottle of your best champagne honey," she grinned. "Might as well celebrate New Year."

I smiled gently in agreement. "Sure thing."

As I was getting her the drinks, her phone rang and she swore under her breath. Without another word, she turned and ran out of the bar, not even glancing at the creepy hot drunk guy sat in their booth. He was looking over at me as I stood there in shock, staring down at the champagne.

He caught my eye and smirked, standing up and sauntering over to me. He slid into a bar stool and tossed a couple of green bills over to me.

"You aren't going to let that go to waste are you?" he drawled, resting his chin against his fist on bar.

I didn't say a word and just poured him a glass, sliding it over to him. "Excuse me. I have other people to serve."

He laughed dryly. "Really? Place looks deserted to me. You should stay and finish this with me."

I looked at the bottle of champagne and sighed, shaking my head. "I can't drink whilst I'm working."

He smirked and leant forwards, biting his lip. "I won't tell, I promise."

"I'm sorry, but no," I muttered, turning away.

"Well what time do you finish here?" he called after me.

"At two," I replied, busying myself with checking the register, counting up the money.

"Why don't you come out with me? You look like you could use a night out," he purred, his glass poised elegantly between his long, slender fingers. "And besides, I have no one to celebrate the New Year with now. You wouldn't want me to be lonely, would you?"

I gave him an icy look. "I'm sure there are plenty of other bartenders that you could be chatting up right now, and I'm sure there are a lot that will go out with you. I, however, am not one of them."

"Mmm," he mused quietly, his eyes distant. "What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't," I told him flatly. "But if you must know, it's Frank."

"Your last name wouldn't happen to be Iero would it?" he asked vaguely, examining his glass of bubbling liquid, holding it up to the dim lights.

I froze. "How do you know that?"

He slowly turned his head to look at me, his eyes dark and glistening with something seductive and strange. "Lucky guess."

I stared hard at him, his eyes boring into mine. "I think you should probably leave now."

"Probably," he agreed after a few minutes, his eyes wandering over my body. "I'll see you around soon Frankie."

With that he dismounted the bar stool and left the building, leaving me stood behind the bar in a state of confusion, fear, and for some strange reason excitement.