#job relocation

You were formatting some data into programs when your co-worker, Lauren, shot you a text: “Duck Tape at 5:30pm? I’m thinkin it’s time you put a move on that hunky bartender, we’ve only got so much time ;)”

You huffed through your nose, looking from the screen of your phone to the screen of your work computer. Smirking, you replied, “It’s a date. Although, the amount of people in this town with STDs doesn’t really make me want to put a move on anyone! See you then, love”. You and Lauren had gotten much closer since you had both been assigned to this program, sharing the same, uninspired duties. You wrapped up your data analyses on STD transmission for the day, sending in the results to headquarters. 

You left the house at 5:15pm, wearing a floral linen dress. Your makeup was light, small amount of color to your lip to make you look a little more done up. Dresses were the best invention; it’s cheating really, it’s one item of clothing and voila, you look like you tried. Before you got out of your car, you swiped on a tad more deodorant (it’s really fucking muggy) and just a touch more lip color. You waited for Lauren to pull in, and when she did, you both met each other at the door. 

“Well well little lady” she exaggerated in a fake southern drawl,” I do think tonight is gonna be the night in that little get up.” She was gesturing to your curves and winked. You rolled your eyes at her and she swung open the door to the quaint, dark bar. You walked up to the bar with Lauren, taking a seat between the beer taps. As you hung your crossbody purse on the hooks below the bar, you turned to Lauren, “If you want to be the one taking me home, you’re gonna have to buy me a drink first!” Not able to find the hook without looking for it, you hunched your body more to be able to look under the bar, finding the hook and placing the strap around it. 

“Who’s the lucky one getting taken home” cooed a deep baritone voice. In an attempt to meet his eyes, you tried to quickly raise yourself when you hit your head on the bar. Trying to recover, you popped up, “I meant to do that.”

“You alright, darlin’?” chuckled the bartender. 

“I mean, I might have a concussion, but it’s nothing one of your drinks can’t cure,” you giggled. A pink hue bloomed in your cheeks, you were used to embarrassing yourself but this certainly wasn’t the person you wanted to do that in front of. He seemed kind enough though, didn’t make you feel like you were embarrassing at all. You tapped your fingernails lightly against the counter, leaning your head in your hand with your elbow on the bar. 

“Gonna be the usual, y/n?” He looked to you attentively. 

“You know my name?” 

“Course I do, I pay attention to your friend here always callin on ya,” he claimed, “but I also swipe your card quite often so that helps,” He was leaning against the bar, his typical, sweet smirk gracing his lips. 

“Well what’s yours?” you asked, trying not to sound too interested (even though you absolutely were).

“Little lady, you’ve been comin here for three months now,” he chided, jokingly. “It’s Clyde. Clyde Logan. Pleasure to uh, officially meet you.” He extended his hand for yours, and you obliged. He took your small hand in has massive one, warm and slightly calloused. 

“Clyde Logan,” you repeated, “pleasure’s all mine”. The left strap of your dress fell after the handshake, your right hand quickly coming to it’s aid. Lauren coughed. “Yes yes, now that we’re all best friends...Clyde, do a shot with us?!” 

Clyde looked around at the bar, noting how full it was. It was certainly a busier than normal night, loud chatter and clinking of glasses filling the room. He turned to face his stock. “What’ll it be, sweetheart?” 

Lauren’s face lit up, “Ok ok, don’t make fun of me, but...I’ve never had a tequila shot. What’d’ya think?” She looked to you, and you faked confidence. “Sounds like tonight’s gonna get wild...Clyde, what do you think?”

Clyde pulled a bottle of tequila from the top shelf and you watched as his prosthetic arm worked in unison with his good one. “I think you ladies are trouble.” You melted into your palm a bit more as you watched him prepare your shot, looking up for a split second to meet your eyes. 

Lauren began discussing plans for the upcoming long weekend, asking what you thought of this plan or that. You responded in yes, no, or hell no when Clyde set the shots in front of you both. Lauren became giddy, clapping her hands in excitement as she poured salt on the back of her hand. She picked up the lime, and you followed her and Clyde’s movements. Truth be told, you’d never done one of these either and were worried you’d gag on the shot (just like you did every other time). 

Clyde lifted his shot in the air, “To...firsts”. He looked from Lauren to you as you said cheers, eyes lingering on your mouth a millisecond too long. 

You shot back the silver tequila, placing the glass down and the lime to your mouth. It was salty, sour, smooth, and bitter. You were surprised at how well it went down, and for once, you didn’t embarrass yourself. Clyde placed his glass down and high-fived Lauren as she winced. 

After a few seconds giggling, he grabbed up the materials from the bar. “You ladies needin’ anythin else?” You ordered your usual drink, Clyde smiling as you stated your order. He walked away to grab the ingredients for your drinks. 

“.....WELL….” Lauren was smiling deviously. “Well what?” you replied. 

A couple of hours flew by, the drinks burning slightly in your belly. Clyde stopped by the two of you as often as he could, indulging in your conversations excitedly. But he was busy. Your hair had curled from the humidity and the bar was settling a bit. Clyde returned with your drink, the tonic water fizzing happily around ice. 

“Ugh, you are a godsend here in the town, Clyde Logan,” you breathed. It felt easier to say when your lips ran away from you, drink buzzing in your veins. You loved saying his name.

“Is that so, miss,” he said, dripping with honey. Lauren popped up to go the restroom, giving you a wink as she walked away. “Get the feelin she’s a handful,” he said, smirking. He leaned into the bar with his good hand. “How ya doin, darlin? Needin anythin?”

“Hmm,” you cooed, “a getaway, mostly. Somewhere with no computers so I don’t have to crunch numbers all day,” you sighed. 

“I been meanin’ ta ask ya,” he started, “brother and I have been goin’ to this campin’ spot every year for the long weekend…” His cheeks were turning a little pink, his lips moving quickly and his eyes focusing on the grain in the wood of the bar. “It’s Jimmy, his friend, an me. Usually we pack enough food to feed three armies, endin up with too much left over. Would you an Lauren wanna go campin’?”

When he finished his sentence, he looked up at your face, eyes cautious. 

“You wanna go camping with me?” you asked eagerly. Too eagerly?

He huffed a breath and smiled, wide and toothy. “Well, you’re both invited, but..o’course. I’d love to have you there. It could be the getaway that ya need.” He looked over to a couple of expectant customers at the bar. “One minute, sugar.” He walked away to help the other customers when Lauren returned. 

“Lauren, we’re going camping,” you declared without context. 

“Ew, y/n. Do you long for the company of mosquitos and bears?” she teased.

“Hmm, not mosquitos or bears. Clyde invited us.”

Her whole demeanor changed, mouth forming an oh-my-god in silence. She regained her composure as Clyde was walking past you two. She whispered,” he’s so into you.”

After a little while longer, you closed out your tab, leaving him a considerably large tip. As you stood, a little wobbly from the drink, you reached to grab your purse and Clyde jogged over to you. 

“Y/n,” he called sweetly. You snapped up and smiled at him. He was rubbing the back of his neck, looking to you at a bit of an angle. “I, well. I uh, I wanted to ask ya for your number so we can plan everythin’ together...the campin’ trip and whatnot.”

You smiled widely at him, tiny butterflies threatening to escape your ribcage. “Of course, Clyde, anything,” you breathed. He pulled a small notepad out of his chest pocket, along with a pen. Se put his hand in the back of his pocket as he watched you scrawl your name and number onto the sheet. You handed it back to him dutifully, beaming. “Can’t wait.”

~