3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Julie
The music in the bar hums with joy. I'm on my feet again, busy serving patrons. I love it when the bar is buzzing with joy. Slinging drinks may not be the most glamorous job for some, but I sure enjoy it all the time. The crowd ebbs and flows like the waves of the ocean, and just as I place a colorful cocktail in front of a gleeful customer, I spot him. My heart sinks. There he is, Targoth, a scrawny, overly ambitious zylion with a penchant for trying to woo women like me with his peculiar brand of charm—mostly based on exaggerated tales of his supposed intergalactic conquests. Tonight, he’s got his sights set on me, again, and I can feel his gaze like a creeping vine, slowly wrapping around my resolve.
I want to leave, or let the bouncer know about this, but...
"Good day, my sweetheart." Targoth has the most obnoxious grin on his face, which he probably thinks makes him look good.
I force a smile, hoping I look professional. This is a business, after all, and before he causes trouble, I have to bear with that.
The cost of doing business...
"I've been thinking about you." Targoth leans over the bar, his iridescent scales shimmering under the neon lights. "Your smile lights up the cosmos brighter than a supernova."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "What are you having for the evening?" I ask, keeping it professional while scanning the room for an escape route.
"I'd say you." He winks, imagining himself to be a lot more handsome than he actually is. Maybe he's the one for someone, but I'm certain that I'm not that special someone. I just want to be slinging drinks... not to engage with stupidity.
I clear my throat. "How about a drink? Fancy a cocktail?"
"Only if you'll share it with me," he purrs, or at least attempts to. It sounds more like a malfunctioning air filter. "I've got a spaceship that could take us to the most romantic spots on the planet."
As if I don't have a spaceship myself... I'd fly myself to somewhere he can't find me, but that's if I care that much about him. He doesn't have such an impact on me. "That's very... generous. But I should mention—"
"Your beauty transcends species," he continues, oblivious to my discomfort. "And I've heard zylions and humans are very compatible—"
I rub the silver ring on my finger, pretending that's an unintentional thing. I'm single, but I usually have the ring on just so I can deter crazy beings. Also, I'm not looking to date any of my patrons, so that has been working, except there are some beings who are apparently blind, like this fucking dumbass standing right in front of me. "I mean, that's generous of you. But trust me, maybe you want to have a drink and enjoy the evening. I have a line to serve."
"But do they have what you deserve to get? Your pull is even stronger than the moon of—"
Someone clears his throat, sounding like a strong male.
I look up, and there stands the big kot'oll, that kot'oll, all his four arms crossed over his chest. He isn't in his uniform, but he is a buff dude regardless. I've always thought that he should buy clothes that are a size larger, but for now, he looks perfect. I've never been so happy to see a traffic officer in my life, especially right after I ran from him mere days ago.
"Is there a problem here?" His deep voice carries that official tone that makes most beings straighten up instinctively.
Before Targoth can respond, I seize my chance. "Oh, you're here! Do you know how much I miss you?" I'm perhaps a bit too enthusiastic. "I was wondering when you'd show up!"
The kot'oll's bronze eyes widen slightly, but to his credit, he catches on quickly. One of his hands moves to rest on the bar counter, closer to where mine is, while another adjusts his belt in what I hope passes for a possessive gesture.
He grunts. "I miss you, too, but apparently, there's some trouble waiting to be solved."
In order to be more convincing, I get out of the counter and invite myself into the kot'oll's arms. I pick the one that's closer to me. He wraps that arm around me, flexes the two upper arms, and rests the remaining one on his waist.
He sends a lot more warmth to me than I expected. His muscles are a bit too comfortable. Imagine if he holds me with all four arms... I may melt.
Targoth's scales seem to lose some of their shine. "You... you two are...?"
"Together. For a while now, actually. Right?" I give kot'oll what should work as a charming smile that's filled with love.
Fuck... I'm so bad at this. I'm only good at flirting with patrons, and...
Even though, in theory, the kot'oll and Targoth are both strangers to me who I don't plan on getting close to, Vatok seems to be a much better choice, that's imagining if I have to date either.
Wait... is that an insult to the kot'oll when he's clearly the winner, so much so there shouldn't even be consideration?
The kot'oll's mouth twitches, fighting what might be either amusement or discomfort. "Indeed. Is there something you need from my mate past a drink for the evening?"
The word 'mate' in his official-sounding voice nearly makes me laugh, but I manage to keep it together. Targoth, meanwhile, looks like he's swallowed something particularly unpleasant.
"I... no, I was just..." His previous swagger evaporates faster than spilled alcohol on a hot day. "I'll have a Nebula Fizz."
I nod and get back to the counter. "Sure, I can get that for you."
As I mix the drink, I catch the kot'oll watching with an expression I can't quite read. His gaze follows my movements, and I find myself putting extra flair into my bartending, letting the liquid arc through the air between shakers.
"Here you go," I slide the drink across to Targoth, who grabs it without meeting my eyes. He practically scurries away, his scales dulled to a matte finish.
I kind of feel bad for him, but not really. Maybe there's someone out there who will enjoy his terrible flirting skills.
Once he's safely lost in the crowd, I let out a long breath. "Thank you," I tell the kot'oll, meaning it. "I owe you one."
"It was... interesting." He's about to say something more when there are other patrons.
I move to make him a drink before the crowd gets too close. "Here you go, my perfect boy."
He snorts. "Is that me? Boy? Come on..."
I give a nervous chuckle. Now, it feels like I have to keep this going, otherwise... If Targoth finds out that I'm lying about having a mate, he's going to go twice as hard with his flirts and...
He takes a sip of his drink, his bronze eyes twinkling with something that might be amusement. "Your 'perfect boy' needs a stronger drink than this."
I lean in closer, keeping my voice low. "Listen, I know this is awkward, but... could you maybe stick around for a bit? Just until he's gone? Targoth has a habit of lurking, and if he realizes this was all an act—"
"He'll be twice as persistent," he finishes my thought, nodding. One of his lower hands drums a pattern on the counter while an upper one fixes his hair. "I suppose I could spare some time. For public safety, of course. You can have me until closing."
For some reason, ‘I can have him’ sounds good. I know that's not what he means, but I won't mind.
"That'll be amazing, thank you. You're perfect."
"Exactly." He takes the drink that I just prepared and takes a sip. I swear there's a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
The crowd is a bit too close by now, which... Now, I have to have this dialed in.
My cheeks warm. "You should've been here earlier."
"I can't be here all the time." His voice drops lower as other patrons press closer. "Traffic violations don't stop themselves."
I lean in, playing up our fake intimacy for the benefit of any watching eyes. "Oh right, my brave defender of parking laws. How many scans did you make today?"
"Seventeen. But there's that one from a bit ago..." He takes another sip, "Almost one for a particularly stubborn human who left her ship in a no-parking zone while rescuing strays."
"That human sounds delightful," I say, wiping down the counter to hide my grin. "And heroic."
"Reckless," he corrects, but there's no real bite to it. All four of his arms shift slightly as he repositions himself on the stool. "Though I suppose some might find that... appealing."
A group of rowdy Centaurians waves for service, and I hold up a finger to signal I'll be right there. "Well, stick around, traffic cop. Your 'mate' might need more defending before the night's over."
"Is that an order?" His bronze eyes glitter with something that makes my stomach do a little flip.
"Consider it a strongly worded suggestion." I head over to serve the Centaurians. "From your mate."
The word feels strange on my tongue, but not entirely unpleasant. As I move down the bar, the kot'oll's keen eyes are locked onto me, all four arms now relaxed against the counter. For a fake boyfriend, he's doing a surprisingly convincing job.
I suppose that's something a police officer is good at — guarding something. I'm definitely not an item, but I can use some guarding, at least for now when creepers loom.
The night wears on, and the bar's energy shifts from cheerful to rowdy as the patrons indulge in more rounds, I keep one eye on the crowd and the other on my kot'oll, who seems to be taking his role as my protective partner quite seriously. He doesn't drink much, nursing his single beverage while surveying the room with an air of quiet authority. It's comforting to have him there.
Every so often, our eyes meet, and there's a spark that passes between us, which warms me. It's all passing moments that'll end soon, but there's a part of me that enjoys it. It's not every day you get to have a four-armed traffic officer playing the part of your mate.
As I pour another round for the Centaurians, I catch my guy stifling a yawn. It's getting late. Maybe he's been on duty for hours before coming here. Yet, he hasn't complained once about staying to help me out.
I slide a fresh drink his way, a special concoction I reserve for favored customers. "On the house," I say with a wink. "For my 'heroic' mate."
He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "I thought I was your 'perfect boy.'"
I laugh, the sound mingling with the din of the bar. "You can be both, can't you?"
He chuckles, the deep sound resonating pleasantly. "I suppose I can manage that."
The Centaurians leave with a boisterous cheer, their order settled, and I take the opportunity to lean on the counter across from the kot'oll. "So, tell me, is traffic duty really as thrilling as it sounds?"
He grins, revealing a row of sharp, white teeth. "Every day is an adventure. You wouldn't believe the things people will do to avoid a parking ticket."
"I bet," I reply, genuinely interested. "I've seen some creative excuses in my time, too."
I think I enjoyed talking with him more than I expected. This time around, even though I still poke around at him and he jabs back, he doesn't leave, not like before. Maybe he used to think that he'd be taking up space and stopping me from serving others even when there was usually plenty of room around the bar table, as most got their drinks and walked off to enjoy the night.
It... Maybe it will be amazing to be doing this every day... The thought lights a flame in my stomach. He looks over, and I'm not sure whether that's a coincidence. I look away, for the first time that evening.