It was nearly the end of my shift - well, everyone’s, really. The pub closed at 11-ish, depending what the business looked like. Thursday was a school night after all. It was yet another attempt at normal life. Working part-time in a pub seemed to be natural for unqualified people at the beginning of their working life. Today, it was just me and Mark at the bar.

“Can you take the Saturday, Jane?” Mark tried his luck. I seriously didn’t know how he managed. He didn’t like to do the shifts, so who knows how he paid his bills. I didn’t think he worked enough hours to pay them. Not that it is my problem, really. When he made it to work, he was usually charming. Most of the time, he was fun to work with, plus he was rather decorative. I guess that was the main reason why Pete, the owner, kept him on. If anything, I knew some of the girls working there stayed just because of him. Not to mention he had his own fan club among our customers, women and men alike. He was simply good for business.

“No, sorry Mark. I really don’t want more shifts now. I am quite busy with the course and the kids. I like to have some evenings free.”

“I thought you don’t need to do evenings, no?” I thought Mark was really pushing his luck.

“Mark, listen. Yes, I still do twice a week evenings for Lee-Ann. And no, I don’t want to take your shift on Saturday. I have a date. I have a life. This is just my hobby.” The guys sitting behind the bar smiled. It was like a little ritual, every week Mark was trying to get rid of his shift and getting someone else to take it. This time, it was my turn to say no.

I felt like someone was watching us, waiting for his opportunity to approach. A guy I have never seen before was observing us from a corner. He didn’t look like the sort of person who comes to Bellvue. On weeknights, people like to sit near the bar, so we can chat, or they sit with someone and talk. This guy was sitting in the corner alone, watching what’s going on around. It was a bit creepy, but then, you do get the one-off creep now and then in the pub. Mark followed my gaze.

“I think he is hitting on you,” Mark whispered to me, looking at the guy. I hushed him, but the guy smiled my way as if he heard him. Our eyes met and I knew that he was smiling at me, not just in our general direction. It was a bit creepy. A handsome creepy guy is still a creepy guy in the end.

I decided I should take care of his empty glass. After all, I am paid for selling more drinks. I walked towards him consciously, trying to look as businesslike as possible.

“Another beer? We are closing soon.” I offered him. Sometimes the best way to know how things are is simply to look at how they are. He had an empty glass in front him that needed taking off.

“No, thanks. Unless you care to join me? My treat?” He asked lazily, smile in his eyes. He was actually quite pretty, but there was something a little off about him. Though I was not sure what exactly.

“Sorry, that’s not what I am really paid for,” I responded. It was not exactly true because Pete didn’t mind if we had a drink during the night, as long as we stayed sober. No need to tell him that, though. He looked a bit disappointed, clearly not expecting I would refuse him. I guess he was not used to be told no. I smiled, one of those smiles that make guys forget and waited to see it sink in, but he remembered. Interesting. I was not sure about the last time that had happened to me - never probably.

“Shame. I think we have a lot in common,” he said instead. I doubted it. I started to go away with the empty glass - there was no need to linger around anymore. There was still lots to do if I wanted to go home on time. As I was walking away, he caught my hand,

“Wait. Can we just talk? I mean, we do need to talk.” I was not sure if he was flirting with me. It certainly felt so. His hand was smooth and warm and I couldn’t stop thinking it might be nice to get to know him a bit better. I smiled and looked into his green eyes, our gaze met. Once again, I tried to make him forget me, this very moment. His hand felt warm but his eyes were cold from close up. I was looking into the eyes of a dead person. I dropped the glass on the floor and it broke to pieces.

“Easy now. You don’t need to be afraid. I just want to talk.” I broke the connection between us. I focused on the pieces of the glass lying on the floor. There were exactly 547 pieces, from the small ones you could hardly see, to three large ones. They were not spread evenly, but then, you would not expect that. I made sure all were just around the guy, kicking some of the ones farther away towards him. I told them to stay where they were and picked up the largest one that people from the bar could see. Then I walked away as quickly as possible. He didn’t stop me. Mark looked my way from the bar and I was glad there were still people around. I didn’t need this at all.

“Broken glass, heh? You are getting clumsy today.” Mark teased me. “Are you all right?” It was not much like him to look worried. To be honest that in itself was making me nervous.

“Yes,” I smiled my well practised no-nonsense smile. “All picked up, don’t worry.” I looked at him and saw he forgot what just happened. Then I disposed theatrically of the sherd so everyone could see me. All was fine. They all saw what they wanted to see. I didn’t look back to the corner.