Page 4 of Back To You

Annie always told me it was easier to feel confident when she wasn't playing herself, but I knew that confidence was inside her, begging to come out.

And by the looks of it, it finally has.

I have a few minutes before I'm meeting with the owner for my job interview. And instead of finding him, my eyes find Annie again, and it’s at this moment that I realize how weird it is for her to be a bartender, especially at a place like this.

The Annie I knew didn’t do too well in crowds that weren’t there to watch her perform on stage. She always sat by herself when she came to watch my hockey games, and she stayed by my side at parties. Aside from the last one, when I let Devin convince me that she and the other girls wanted to spend some time with Annie before they all went their separate ways.

Looking around, I see a group of men who I can assume are regulars seated at the bar, and the booths and high top tables are filled with patrons a few years olderthan Annie and me, most likely enjoying their time off from classes for the holidays.

Annie just turned 19 in September, and it’s hard to imagine someone as soft-spoken as her here.

“Bill, does it look like I want to sit here and listen to you?”

Or not.

Her voice has an edge to it that I’ve never heard, but it’s one I could definitely get used to. I watch as she rolls her eyes and starts wiping down the bar, and my body moves on its own.

I don’t know if because I want to protect her—not that she even seems to need it—or because I just want to be close to her, but I’ve seen Annie almost every day of my life since we were six, and these four months without her have been like I lost a part of myself.

The most important part.

I’m a few steps away from the bar when I hear the man respond, but I can’t make out what he says with his back turned to me.

Annie tucks the towel she was using to wipe down the bar into her tight jeans. She puts her hands on her hips, making her Lenny’s tank top tighten around her chest. “You really want me to tell Emmett you’re pissed he mentioned switching hard seltzer brands? I’m sure he’ll say the same thing as me.”

Leaning forward on the bar, she rests her elbows down right in front of the man. She leans in just a few inches from his face. "Fuck off". I watch as her cherry red lips accentuate each word, and I freeze.

My mind is spinning because I see Annie in front of me but I don’t recognize her in the slightest.

Annie doesn’t swear.

Annie doesn’t speak up for herself.

Annie most definitely does not say what’s on her mind.

She turns around and grabs a liquor bottle from behind her, saying over her shoulder, “You don’t even drink hard seltzers. So, drinkyourstupid whiskey and leave me the hell alone.”

What the hell is she doing?

She shouldn’t be talking to him like this. There’s no way she knows how he’ll react, especially if she pissed him off. I hate that it’s the truth so many women have to face, but men have a track record of not taking too kindly to being told off by women.

I glance to the other side of the bar as my feet finally close the distance between her and me, and there’s another bartender behind the bar, a tall, built guy with dark hair and tan skin, but he doesn’t pay Annie any attention, which worries me even more.

Does Annie have anyone looking out for her here?

Right as I get up to the bar, I hear Bill and the guys he’s with roar with laughter, one of them saying how he remembers when he first met Annie and how she treated him the same way.

What?

I have so many questions circling my brain.

He remembersAnnietalking to him like this?

Who the hell is this girl?

And what did she do with the Annie I knew?

Before I can fully process, Annie turns and we make eye contact. Her face pales, and every ounce of confidence I saw from her a moment ago fizzles.

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