As the man who was causing trouble disappears into the crowd, I feel weird feeling of relief and unease washing over me.

"Well, thank you for saving me... again," I say, turning to the bartender, who just placed my drink in front of me. Taking a sip of my Cosmo, I try to roll the tension from my shoulders.

"You're welcome." I hear him say, and I let out an involuntary chuckle.

"Right." I take another sip of my drink, skipping a glance at him when he makes himself comfortable by my side.

"I was just coming by to say hi and see how you're doing when I realized that little piece of shit was bothering you. I was just trying to help." He frowns, and I hold the urge to roll my eyes just like Marcus does every time he feels I'm babysitting him.

"Because you think I'm a damsel in distress after yesterday." I raise my eyebrows, and I see a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Well, actually–"

"Which I might be if you think about it, right? I can't believe I freaking froze yesterday. I should've run, screamed, or simply pulled the damn bottle of pepper spray out of my bag... But what did I do instead? I froze!" I close my eyes, a wave of embarrassment washing over me.

"You were taken by surprise. It was not your fault. Those guys were looking for trouble and you were caught in the middle." He shrugs as if things were that simple.

From my experience, a woman is always found guilty in these kinds of situations.

Because no matter how much we try to rationalize, society will find a way to blame us. They'd say I was wearing the wrong clothes. That I was walking late all by myself. Or even that I chose to be a bartender, so I had to accept this shit.

I've been to this rodeo and back. I know the drill.

Don't drink. Don't flirt. Don't walk home alone. Don't wear a short skirt. Don't use headphones, don't talk on the phone...

People will always find a way to blame the victim instead of telling men not to attack us.

Shaking my head, I look down. "I know you were just trying to help, and I'm grateful you were there yesterday. It's just super frustrating to live in a world where men can't understand what the word no means."

"True. Though I have to say not all men are like that," he says. "Some are as disgusted by this culture of victim-blaming as you are."

"Right. You're clearly the exception." I snort, a smirk leaving my lips as my eyes meet his.

"You..." He clears his throat. "You never told me your name."

"Oh, yeah. I'm Andrea, but my friends call me Andie." I awkwardly offer my hand, and the moment his strong, calloused hand touches mine, a jolt of electricity courses through my body, catching me off-guard.

"I'm Tyler. Nice to officially meet you, Andie. Can I buy you another drink?" His gaze falls to my now empty glass, as his hands linger a second too long clasped with mine.

Raising my hand to call the bartender's attention, I murmur, "I should be the one buying you a drink after yesterday... I owe you one after all."

"Sure." He lets out a chuckle, and I can't help the smile that leaves my face.

"Another Cosmo, please," I say when I catch the bartender's eyes.

"Sure thing." He nods, turning to Tyler. "Nice to see you around these parts, man. Can I get you anything?" he asks.

"Monkey Shoulders on the rocks, please," he orders, and my curiosity sparks.

Seeing all sorts of people at work daily, you learn a thing or two about what a customer's drink might say about someone. Of course, it's not always accurate, but you need to know what to expect and to be alert when a group of frat boys comes ordering shots after shots of vodka.

Being a bartender is about being social and it requires constant contact with others, along with a basketful of social perceptiveness. So, in a way, you come to understand a thing or two about human nature and behavior, which is always useful when dealing with alcohol and people.

Take Whiskey drinkers, for instance. They tend to be quiet and observant, exuding a certain timeless charm and distinction.

You can't play around with whiskey.

When a guy as handsome as Tyler asks for a Scotch, he not only emanates virility but also a certain type of confidence like those who know what they want and are not afraid to get.

What sparked my curiosity was not the fact he went for a Scotch, though. That was kind of expected considering he is the personification of self-assurance.

What intrigued me was the fact the non-bullshit taker who was ready to kick ass yesterday chose a rich and fruity blended malt with a friendly vanilla note. Meaning there might be a soft side to the hard exterior when it comes to him.

"Interesting choice," I say after the bartender leaves to make our drinks.

"Damn! You were the bartender that day, not a customer. That's why your face looked so familiar." He gives me a once-over, clearly noting how different my outfit today is. I often dress in black to work and just throw in the bar apron, but today I have to confess I'm way too dressed up.

"The one and only." I feel a smile pulling at my lips.

"I'm surprised you were walking alone that late by yourself. Not that I think it was your fault those guys harassed you." He rushes to explain. "But because there are all kinds of crazy people lingering around these places after work hours..." He stops when I frown.

"Are you one of them?" I ask, my tone light.

"Guess that's none of my business, huh?" He shakes his head, a small smile on his lips.

"I'm just giving you a hard time," I say as the bartender places our drinks in front of us, falling into the habit of making small talk at a bar.

Only Tyler is not a customer. And I'm not working.

The sobering thought quickly invades my mind as I watch him twist his body in his seat, so he's fully facing me.

Raising his glass towards mine, his lips curve. "Cheers," he says, his voice low and smooth, his eyes warm and searching.

"Cheers." The word comes out as a whisper, my face heating as I try to look away.

Because the voice in the back of my mind is shouting at me and alerting me of all the reasons why this guy is trouble. I've seen his type before. I know what he's looking for in popular nightclub on a Saturday night.

Tyler screams sex and control. Two things I value too much to give away so easily. Especially for a one-night stand, which is clearly what he and his friends are looking for tonight.

"I should go back to my friend." I gulp down half of my drink, standing up abruptly. "It was nice meeting you."

"There you are." Kayla approaches us, her eyes widening when she sees Tyler standing up. "Uh..." she tries, her eyes darting between me and him.

"Hey, this is Tyler." I bite my lower lip when I see she realizes we are having a drink together. "The guy who helped me yesterday? Tyler, this is my best friend Kayla."

Her eyes roam over his arms and chest before snapping to his face. "Oh, uh... Nice to meet you. Thanks for helping Andie yesterday. She was still really shaken today. Hence the idea of going out and..." She rambles, a little flustered.

"Nice to meet you too, Kayla. I'm glad I was there and was able to help." He offers his hand, and she looks at it with a weird look on her face before shaking it.

"Oh... Yeah..." She keeps staring at him, and I clear my throat, making her snap out of it.

"Did she tell you I offered her my card too?" Tyler smiles at her, making me frown.

"Uh... Your card?" I ask. "I think you mean the card of the new MMA gym they opened downtown."

"Well, they would entail me and my friends over there." He points to his friends across the room, and when Kayla sees them, her eyes widen.

"The new MMA gym downtown. Of course." She grins, her eyes dancing with excitement. Since when has she been interested in MMA?

"We're offering a special discount for new members. You girls should check our self-defense classes. I'm sure you'll both enjoy it," Tyler says, his eyes now on me.

"Oh, how about Monday morning?" Kayla says, practically bouncing with excitement. "We're both free on Monday mornings."

"Uh... Yeah, sure." I nod, just so we can move on. There's no way I'm going there on Monday or any other day. "Look, this is our favorite song." I link my arms with Kayla's. "Thanks again for everything, Tyler. We'll see you around." I give him a smile before dragging her to the dance floor.

"You too." I hear his raspy voice say, but I don't dare to look back.

I've never felt this pull with another guy before, let alone with a guy I just met. But the last thing I need is to allow myself the distraction. I have an important meeting tomorrow with my boss, and if things go as planned, I think a promotion is in the cards for me.

That will mean more work, but also more money, so I can finally move into a bigger place where Marcus and I get more comfortable. I don't know what our father's plans are in terms of helping him through college in a couple of years, but I want to be able to save some money so my little brother can focus on his future.

And I guy like Tyler has distraction written all over him.

_____

A/N: A distraction, huh? Who calls it BS?  haha

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XOXO

Celeste