Hey, y'all!

I have been working on this for the past couple of days, it ran through my head Superbowl Sunday. So, I decided to take it, run with it, and turn it into a one shot for you all! I think it is super cute, and I really hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognize.


Austin

"What a beautiful day it is for football, Jim!"

"It sure is Eric! I don't think we could have asked for a more beautiful day or a better forecast as we watch these two teams come together to battle for that ring. I'll tell ya, Jim, this is going to be a game to see! The Bucs verses the Chiefs right here on the Bucs turf in the sunshine state of Florida!"

"These two teams have overcome so much, and I don't think there are any two more deserving teams to be in this moment right now! I honestly can't wait for kickoff at 5:30."

I glanced down at the watch secured around my wrist, pausing my hands from drying a whiskey glass. Once I read four o'clock, I shot a glance towards the man who signed my paychecks; he stood at the opposite end of the bar where he was currently double-checking stock.

"You ready for this?"

The old man gave a grunt in response to my question and I couldn't help but laugh.

"I don't know what you are laughing at down there, blondie. It's the biggest game of the year in our home city, the question is, are you ready?"

I rolled my eyes, a smug smile overtaking my lips. "Come on, Barry, you know me better than that."

Barry responded with another grunt, and I chuckled.

Barry Maxwell had been bossing me around with grunts and growls for nearly five years. He was a short, stocky man standing just under five eight with a beer belly that stuck out as far as his behind. Grey peppered in great contrast to his midnight colored hair that was styled to hide the balding spot near the crown of his head. And while he never seemed to smile, Barry was by far the most selfless, kindhearted man I knew.

Even if most of his vocabulary was disgruntled noises.

"I'm opening the doors in ten, everything ready?"

I nodded, adding the final touches by turning on each small, flat screen television that mounted to the walls, some above the bar and others displayed in various corners – there had to be at least ten in the entire bar. Normally each one playing something different, but tonight, it would be the fifty-fifth Superbowl that danced on all of them. There wouldn't be a single angle where a customer couldn't see the game while in this building tonight.

Not only was tonight the fifty-fifth annual Superbowl, the biggest football game in the nation, but it was close to home. Our very own city, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, were participating this year, and for the first time in history, the Superbowl game would be on one of the team's home turf – which just so happened to be ours.

And there was no doubt in mind that tonight would be the busiest I had ever seen this city in my twenty-six years of living.

It was an exciting time to live in Tampa Bay, even more so if you were a Bucs fan.

An hour and a half later and my feet hadn't been in one spot for longer than it could take me to put together a cocktail, which wasn't long if I do say so myself. One minute I was pouring beer from a stub, sliding it down to the regulars in their designated seats at the end of the bar, and then I was turning around to shake multiple cocktails at once – And I had been doing the same song and dance since Barry flipped on the neon open sign. Person after person filed through the door; some coming straight to the bar to order drinks before going to grab a seat or booth while some went straight for pool tables or to save a group seats near a television in a corner.

It was nights like this when I loved my job, whenever the bar was filled to the brim and I was surrounded by constant chatter; the energy so palpable it was impossible not to match it. My hands were constantly in motion, my fingers gripping around the slim neck of liquor bottles while grabbing and rinsing used glasses before twirling around to pop off the top of a beer bottle, all the while I chatted with customers and kept an eye on the game.

The national anthem had just been performed, and now both of the team's captains met at the fifty-yard line to toss the coin that would determine which team would start off with the ball.

With my back turned to the television behind me, I kept my ears open to hear the call while watching the action from one of the televisions across the room as I put together a Moscow Mule for the blonde that I could feel eye fucking me from across the counter.

Each time I would catch her eye, she would wink, and I would smirk. Then she leaned forward to place her elbows on the marble, allowing her ample breast to show in that tight, barely there fabric called a shirt, despite the fact it was below fifty degrees outside. And the meathead's arm that she was hanging on minutes ago was too engrossed in the game to notice her flirting.

And although she was hot, really hot, I wouldn't be the cause of a bar fight tonight, especially over some blonde bimbo that flashed her boobs only to get a free drink and probably didn't look the same beneath all that makeup. But that didn't mean I wouldn't look at boobs that were being flashed in front of my face.

Well…that was until a sight much better than boobs walked through the bar door.

My hand froze on the glass that I had been sliding in the blonde's direction as I locked my gaze on the brunette that strolled through the crowd of people; each individual seeming to part for her.

Her chocolate locks cascaded in voluminous waves that framed her perfectly proportionate face, outlining the gold, rectangular earrings that swayed with each step. She wore black, skinny jeans matched with a tight black top, accented by a bright, crimson leather jacket. The outfit hugged her figure while still remaining modest – leaving every presence male's mind to wonder.

With nearly every inch of her body covered, she walked with a confidence unparalleled to any woman in the bar. She was beautiful, and she knew it, too.

The blonde who's breast I had ogled less than two minutes ago cleared her throat, and I was met with a glare once I caught her eyes again. She didn't say a word, just ripped the glass from my hand before turning back to the guy she was with.

I just chuckled, shaking my head, turning to take another order, forcing myself to not look around for the woman who had just walked in as I mixed liquor. I served an older couple with a smile before turning around, but I stopped in my tracks when noticing the brunette sitting right in front of me, the back of her head all I could see as she was turned to the doorway, waving a short, Latina in her direction while patting the open seat beside her.

My heart fluttered as I quickly grabbed glasses to begin drying, pretending to busy myself before she turned to catch me staring at her.

"I was beginning to think some guy kidnapped you," the brunette joked, adjusting her jacket over the back of her seat.

Her voice dripped heavily with sweetness, and it settled some of the nerves dancing in my belly at the thought that I would eventually have to take her order. Only some.

"You know better than that, Al," her friend began, "it isn't kidnapping if I go willingly."

They both chuckled, but I furrowed my eyebrows. Al? That could be the nickname of many things; Alex, Alaia, Alyssa, Alyson.

"Austin, I need another one!"

I shot my head up at the sound of a Larry's Wilson's voice, a full-time regular, from the other end of the bar. From the corner of my eye, I could see 'Al' eyeing me, but I forced myself to grab the long neck of a beer bottle, popping off the lid before sliding it down, it stopping perfectly in front of Larry.

He held it up in thanks before tilting it back to connect to his lips, his eyes never leaving the game.

"That was impressive."

Every hair on my body stood on end at the sound of that sweet voice filling my ears; that sweet voice that was directed towards me. Taking a deep breath, I plastered on my signature lazy smirk before turning to face her.

And it didn't matter how much of a façade I put on, that smirk fell the moment her coffee colored orbs locked with mine; that bright smile outlined by crimson lips begging for attention from my own. My eyes shifted to her chest, a bit more of that fantasy showing since she removed her jacket.

Chill the fuck out, Moon.

But she just smirked, leaning forward, never taking her eyes off of mine. And unlike any other female that just looked like an attention seeking whore when preforming that action, she made it look completely innocent – too innocent, so much so that my pants tightened around that particular organ.

I cleared my throat, replacing my smirk, but only a little flirtier. It had been a while since I flirted with a girl as beautiful as the one in front of me, but I wasn't going to lose my shit over it.

"Well, practice makes perfect." I mirrored her stance, my face inches from hers, but she didn't flinch. Her smile just seemed to widen. "What can I get for you?"

She hummed, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth before breaking our gaze and turning to her friend. My eyes followed that lip trapped between those pearly whites.

"What are you getting, T?"

I turned my attention to the curly haired woman that I now knew as 'T'.

"I'll take a vodka soda."

I nodded once, turning to raise my brows in the brunette's direction. She released her lip, pulling both to the side, that flirtatious personality replaced with genuine uncertainty. Her eyes locked with mine once again.

"What would you recommend? I'm tired of malibu sunsets and gin and tonics," she said, and a comfortable friendless shown in those murky depths.

I hummed, tapping my fingers on the counter while tilting my head in thought. "I'll surprise you," I toyed, patting the counter twice, turning to start their drinks, not leaving any room for debate.

But nothing was said, and I could hear them each whispering to one another for a moment before they got quiet. It didn't take me long to complete their beverages, and when I turned, I found 'T' scrolling through her phone while 'Al's eyes were locked on the screen behind me.

I raised a single brow, placing both the glasses in front of them. "Here ya go ladies."

She smiled, then looked down, and a bright, curious smile overtook her face. "Woah! It's so pretty," her voice held so much excitement it made me chuckle, "what is it?" Her eyes were wide in question when she looked up, but I just nodded towards the crisp blue liquid.

"Take a sip and tell me if you like it, then I might tell you."

A light laugh slipped from her lips before she cautiously brought the glass to her lips. And once the liquor met her tongue, she raised her brows before humming in approval. "I love this. What is it," she asked once again, but before I could answer, another customer grabbed my attention.

I tapped my knuckle on the counter, then raised a finger indicating that I would be right back.

Ally

It was minutes before the kickoff of the biggest game in the nation, and the streets of Tampa Bay were decked out with die hard Buccaneers fans. People flew by at a fast pace, anxious to get where they were going to settle down for the game. Cheers and yells were heard from nearly every street corner as family and friends gathered outside to essentially 'tailgate'. Everywhere my eyes landed, they were meet with the team's colors.

To anyone who wasn't a football fanatic, it might have been classified as 'extra' or 'ridiculous', but I understood the excitement; it was the same excitement that had been growing in my own chest since the Buccaneers won against the Packers a few weeks ago.

It wasn't every day that the Bucs went to the Superbowl, in fact, it had been eighteen years since their last attendance, and now that we had Tom Brady – the proven Superbowl weapon – we were more confident than ever.

At least, that's what the sportscasters were saying.

I was more than confident in my team, but I wasn't stupid, I knew the Chiefs were good. It was their second year in a row to see the Superbowl turf, and there was no doubt they were more determined than ever to win.

"I just don't understand the hype."

And my best friend would be the one who seen all the festivities as 'extra' and 'ridiculous'.

I sighed with a roll of my eyes, glancing down at her as we continued our walk to the sport's bar that was less than fifteen minutes from my apartment. I never normally went to bars, especially sport bars where drunk men liked to argue and bet over games, but I wanted to celebrate tonight and be with people that matched my energy – even though I was dragging my football hating best friend with me.

"It's the Superbowl, Trish," I emphasized, "it's America's most beloved sport, and the two best teams in the nation are going head to head. Our own city is going head to head on their home turf for the first time in history, how could that not be exciting?"

Trish scoffed, "watching grown ass men aggressively fight over a leather ball is not exciting."

I rolled my eyes as we finally reached the bar door, and I opened it. We were instantly hit with the overwhelming smell of alcohol and a mixture of cologne, perfume, and sweat. The game was already broadcasting on all of the televisions, and I could hear many conversations of bets being made as the coin was tossed.

"I'm going to the restroom," Trish informed over the noise, and I nodded, telling her that I would find us a seat before making my way through the crowd.

As crowded as the bar was, it was surprisingly easy to maneuver through all the people, and I luckily found two empty seats open in the middle of the bar. I pulled out the barstool, along with the one next to it.

I glanced up at the television to see that kickoff was starting and I mentally prayed for a good game for the Bucs before I spotted the bartender.

The very hot bartender; blonde, tall, and broad, the sleeves of his navy shirt rolled up to his elbows, showing off a sleeve of dark, beautifully shaded tattoos on his left arm, and I had to stop myself from drooling.

God, there was something about a man with tattoos.

He currently had the attention of a blonde who just snatched the glass from his hand rudely before turning to stock off. I raised a brow, but watched as he laughed it off, turning to take more orders from the couple beside her. My eyes wracked over his arms, the fabric of his shirt tightening around his biceps each time he shook the cocktail shaker before they floated further south. His butt looked incredible in those jeans, and I mentally pleaded for him to turn around to see if the front was just as snug.

A minute or so went by of me checking out his ass before I turned to catch Trish's eye as soon as she walked out of the restroom; I waved to grab her attention.

"I was beginning to think some guy kidnapped you," I joked, turning to place my favorite leather jacket over the back of my chair.

Trish laughed, placing her purse under her feet. "You know better than that, Al," she began, "it isn't kidnapping if I go willingly." She waggled her eyebrows while I rolled my eyes on a chuckle.

Trish De La Rose, my best friend since birth, was as boy crazy as it got.

"Austin, I need another one!"

Trish and I both turned our heads towards a guy at the end of the bar. He was looking expectantly at the bartender, and soon, an open, glass bottle of beer was sliding freely down the counter towards the gentleman, stopping perfectly in front of him.

I rested my eyes on him again, an overwhelming urge to talk to him.

"That was impressive," I commented, and he froze for a second, so quickly I barely noticed, before he turned to face me.

Austin's, as the guy ten seats down called him, lips were tucked into a lazy smirk, but once his eyes met mine, they fell. To my lips. And then to my chest.

I smirked, casually leaning forward to give him a better few. He was by far the hottest bartender I had ever seen, and if he wanted to check me out, I was perfectly fine with objecting my body to his sinful gaze.

He cleared his throat, swallowing painfully before leaning down to copy my stance. "Well, practice makes perfect," he claimed, his face was inches from mine, and once the smell of spearmint mixed with a hint of vodka and lime hit my nose, my breath hitched. "What can I get for you?"

His smile was back, and if I wasn't mistaken, slightly more flirtatious than the previous one in place. And once that look captivated me, I completely blanked on anything I wanted to drink.

Pulling my lip between my teeth, I turned to Trish. "What are you getting, T?"

"I'll take a vodka soda."

Her order came out clear and confident while my mind swirled for any possibilities. I was sick and tired of always getting the same thing whenever I did come out. So, I turned back to the sexy bartender and looked at him uncertainly.

"What would you recommend? I'm tired of malibu sunsets and gin and tonics."

He smirked, tapping his fingers against the counter, only inches from mine. "I'll surprise you," he teased, turning his back to us as he began working.

"He is fine," Trish exclaimed in a whisper once he was out of ear shot. "And he is so into you."

I giggled in agreement at her first statement before scoffing. "Please, Trish. He isn't. He's a bartender, he probably flirts with every woman at this bar."

Trish just shrugged. "So, what if he does? The way that man is looking at you," she sighed, fanning her face. "You would be stupid to not even attempt that."

I didn't bother to reply, just locked my eyes on the screen where the Chiefs had already scored a field gold. Shit.

"Here ya go ladies."

I glanced down at the drink Austin sat in front of me, my eyes widening at how pretty it was. It was as blue as the ocean, and it reminded me of being on the beach. "Whoa, it's so pretty," I exclaimed, looking back up at him. "What is it?"

He just motioned to the beverage. "Take a sip, tell me if you like it, and then I might tell you."

With a playful roll of my eyes, I brought the glass up to my lips, and once I did, I hummed. The flavored liquor danced across my taste buds, and I immediately fell in love. "I love this. What is it?"

He went to answer before someone called for his attention. He held up one finger in an indication that he would return before tapping his knuckle and walking away. And I watched unapologetically as he did.


"Hell yeah!"

Numerous shouts of agreement erupted from around me at my excited outburst as we all raised our glasses towards the screen – the Bucs had finally scored a touchdown, leading 7-3 with only 37 seconds left in the first quarter. This is why I had wanted to come out tonight; everyone in this building, in this city, was cheering to the top of their lungs for the Buccaneers tonight.

Well, with the exception of Trish, who had ditched me less than twenty minutes ago to go flirt with some guy at the pool table.

"Brady and Gronkowski aren't a pair to play with."

A gruff voice brought my attention from television to my right to see an elderly man sipping whiskey, his eyes never leaving the screen. I nodded my head, turning back to see that the first quarter had ended, and the Chiefs were lining up their offense.

"No doubt about it," I replied, "getting Tom Brady was one thing, but once you paired that with Gronkowski, Brown, Fournette, along with Barrett and Pierre-Paul, there was no way we weren't going all the way."

I heard a 'humph' and turned to see the man staring at me in approval with the slightest bit of surprise.

"Everyone will say it is Brady that wins it, and he is a damn good ballplayer, but if he didn't have those key factors, Brady wouldn't look as good as he does," I carried one, waving my hands around.

I could feel the effects of the alcohol coursing through my blood already, loosening my tongue.

The gentleman just nodded in agreement, an amused smile behind his tumblr, but didn't say anything. And I liked that, a silent bystander that listened to my tipsy, football crazed rantings.

"You sound pretty confident considering the Chiefs beat the Bucs earlier this season."

My head snapped towards the voice on the other side of the counter, and I found Austin with that same smirk from before resting on his rosy lips. He rested his elbow and forearm on the counter, leaning into his side as he tilted his head back to look up at the television screen.

And had I been anymore tipsy than I was in that moment, I probably would have told him how good his arm looked decorated in those tattoos. My stomach flipped as I studied them. But then I remembered his comment.

"The Chiefs beat them by three points," I deadpanned, staring blankly at him while waiting for him to meet my gaze. He did with that damned smirk, what the hell was there to smirk about.

"And," he questioned, "what's to say it won't happen again tonight."

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you trying to tell me that you are going for the Chiefs?"

Austin's head fell back as he barked out a laugh. "No, darlin'." A shiver ran down my spine at the endearment, even if it was slightly condescending. "You would be stupid to live in Tampa Bay, and be out cheering for the Chiefs tonight."

He leaned forward an inch, so subtle that I barely noticed. I didn't bother to hide my wondering eyes over his features; across his forehead down to the slight bend in his nose before settling on his lips, adorned by the most perfect cupid's bow.

My eyes lingered there for a movement, but then I came to my senses, snapping them back up to meet his. His smirk was gone, replaced by a tight line that hide his smile lines. I followed his to see them on my lips as well.

And then suddenly, a light bulb switched in my brain – the single idea alone taking over my body, causing me to lean in closer. Our noses brushed, and he inhaled sharply, his eyes falling from my lips to peek down my shirt.

"Well," I breathed, "how about we make this interesting…"

He raised a brow, letting his eyes slowly slide back up to mine. "And how would we do that?"

It was my turn to smirk, a burst of alcoholic courage surfacing.

"If I'm right, and the Bucs do come out on top," I let my unspoken suggestion linger, trailing my index finger up his arm and to the collar of his shirt, tugging gently. "Then I get to drag you home with me to celebrate afterward."

Austin

I forced back the guttural groan that wanted to escape at the feeling of her just her finger on me.

Seeing her walk through those doors, walking up to my bar and plopping her little ass down, I knew she was beautiful. She had to be one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. And then when she had been indecisive about her drink, her shy, yet adorable smile as she asked me what I recommended, she had been cute. Like a puppy or a bunny.

But now – sexiness barreled from her like a tsunami; and I wanted her to knock me off my feet, drown me in her merciless tide while seizing everything I had with her demanding presences.

I blinked a few times, gathering my barring's as I wracked my brain for a response.

My body, mostly my dick, wanted me to scream "hell yes" – to throw my towel down and drag her out of the bar and forget the game all together. But the rationality that had taken until I was around twenty-two years of age to form made me realize that I need to keep my cool, take things as slow as I could while still giving her what she wanted; because if I was being honest with myself, this wasn't a woman I wanted just once.

She wasn't wrong, the Bucs would win; I was just as confident in that as she was. But I wanted her in my bed beyond just tonight, meaning I would have to play my cards right.

I moved quickly, grasping her wrist in a firm hold, applying the perfect amount of pressure before leaning to place my lips near her ear. "Alright," I kept my voice low, "but if they win by more than two touchdowns, and I'm betting they do, then I get something that I want."

I heard her swallow before taking in a shaky breath. "Okay. What is it that you want?"

A dark chuckle rumbled from my chest and I pulled away. "I guess you'll find out after the game, darlin'."

And with that, I turned my back to her, fixing her the same drink as before, with a little less alcohol, and turned to place it in front of her with a wink.

"All bets are on."


The Buccaneers scored five touchdowns. And the Chiefs only scored nine points; whether one was a touchdown or they were all field goals, I wasn't sure.

At the end of the third quarter, I walked by the woman I had been watching all night with a cocky smirk, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "I probably should know the name of the beautiful woman I'm celebrating with tonight."

Her cheeks reddened as she ducked her head, the confidence from early dissipating, and it was equally as attractive. When her hazel eyes locked with mind beneath those naturally thick eyelashes, I fought against that reoccurring urge to take her now.

"Ally."

Ally.

I gave her a soft, genuine smile, chucking her chin.

"That's almost as pretty as you." And if possible, those cheeks reddened further.

Now, I glanced over to find her smiling like a loon, rambling to various other Bucs fans around her that shared her excitement. People were shouting to the top of their lungs, singing the Bucs fight song while throwing around their drinking glasses.

Tampa Bay's streets were packed with traffic, bumper to bumper while nearly every single vehicle laid on their horn, causing nearby buildings to rumble, including ours, while their flashers added flare to the city lights. Fireworks popped from nearly every direction, including the ones from the stadium not too far from here.

Crowds of people gathered together in the streets, strangers hugging strangers, all coming together to revel in the victory of our city's win.

It was truly a sight to see; a once in a lifetime experience.

The entire city of Tampa Bay was celebrating tonight.

But when my green eyes caught with hazel ones, I couldn't wait to begin celebrating with her.

Ally

The freaking Buccaneers won the super bowl.

My heart thumped in my chest, partly from the overwhelming excitement that surrounded me at every corner; the city and everyone in it erupting with pure joy and craziness. But the other part of me knew that I had an extremely hot bartender waiting to celebrate with me.

So, when his eyes locked with mine, I began pushing my way through the crowd, the smile on my face never falling. And once I reached him, I throw myself into his arms, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

"Holy shit!"

He laughed at my outburst, wrapping his arms around me with ease and maneuvering us until we were, somewhat, out of people way.

"This is insane," I yelled over the noise that seemed to be growing louder by the minute. "I didn't think it would be this intense."

He just chuckled, and I released him, but his hands never fell from my waist. Before I could do or say anything, someone called Austin's name; an older guy who stood at the entrance leading into the back of the bar.

"You get on out of here, go celebrate. I'll close up."

I watched as Austin hesitated, but the man held his finger up with a stern glare. Austin didn't argue, just nodded, his hands still resting on my hips, squeezing gently. I couldn't tell if it was intentional, but my body leaned into him on its own accord.

He turned to face me again, leaning down until his mouth was neck to my ear.

"Let's get out of here?"

I nodded, turning to find Trish in the mass, shooting her a wave. She had made her way back to me during the final quarter of the game, explaining that she was going to head out with an older friend from college she used to date. And once I had told her about Austin and I's 'bet', she squealed just as the Bucs got another touchdown, mixing in with the rest of us.

Austin began leading me out the back exit of the bar, a reassuring hand resting on my back as we entered the crowded streets on the way to my apartment building.

It took twenty minutes to reach my building whereas it normally took ten to fifteen, but I didn't mind. It gave my brain time to wrap itself around my current situation.

I was leading a stranger to my apartment to do God knows what. A smoking hot stranger to do what I was pretty sure was a one-night stand. Nerves began making their way throughout my body, one of those places beginning my mouth that had glued itself shut five minutes ago.

But when Austin's hands found my own, grazing his thumb comfortingly, some of those nerves dwindled. Only some.

Before I knew it, we had not only reached my apartment building, but my door.

I struggled to find my keys with my shaky fingers, and it was an even bigger struggle to stick the key inside the lock. Lucky for me, Austin didn't seem to notice. Opening the door, I gestured for him to enter first.

Once he did, looked around, a small smile on his face.

"You have a nice place," he complimented, "it's cozy."

A genuine smile found my face, but it was gone as quick as it came. "Thank you."

An awkward silence fell over us for a moment until I cleared my throat.

"Would you like some water?" I didn't bother to wait for an answer, just began making my way into the kitchen, pulling out two glasses before filling them with tap water. I offered the glass to him before downing mine in seconds.

He chuckled, and I eyed him suspiciously. "What are you laughing at?"

Austin shook his head, a small smile playing his lips as he took a little sip of the water before placing it down on the table. He walked towards he slowly, reaching out to gently grasp my hands.

"You are nervous," he stated, and I wanted to deny it. But I couldn't.

"I," I stuttered, "I don't normally do this type of thing. I don't know what I was thinking, this isn't like me at all, and I just don't want to screw this up. I don't want to be bad at it, and -,"

I didn't get to finish my rambling because in one swift movement, Austin cupped my jaw, tilting my head back before gently placing his lips over mine. His lips moved over mine softy, careful yet firm, and I melted into it.

It was the type of kiss that sucked every ounce of breath from my lungs, one that clouded my judgement and left my head spinning. I felt as if I were floating on the highest of highs and I didn't want to come down. But I did, because he pulled away just as quickly.

"I don't do this type of thing either, believe it or not," he admitted, running his hands down to rest them on the side of my neck. "And if you want, we can talk and get to know one another," he let out a breath, "but I really wanted to kiss you."

I stared at him for a moment, contemplating what he just said. We could sit and talk, get to know one another, and then he could go home. Or, I could let him do what I had wanted him to do all night.

"I don't want to talk," I breathed, fisting my shirt in his hands to get him closer. "I want you to touch me."

The words had barely let my mouth before his lips were on mine again, harsher this time. He demanded all I had to give with that one kiss, and I gave and gave, wrapping my arms around his neck and falling limp against him.

His hands roamed down my sides, reaching to grip underneath my thighs, propping me on the counter, and I wrapped my legs around his torso; connecting him to where I ached for him the most.

Austin groaned, reaching up to thread his fingers through the strands of hair at the nap of my neck, then he gripped it, jerking my head back as I gasped loudly. His lips trailing down the front of my throat, sucking and nipping as I writhed against him.

My hands began reaching for the buttons of his shirt, tugging them apart one my one before it allowed me to slip it off his shoulders. I grazed his shoulders and chest lightly, and he growled, reaching to grip my hips and pull me closer.

When my eyes finally fell on his bare chest, I took in a sharp breath, causing him to pull back immediately.

"What, what's the matter," he asked, concern lacing through his panted breaths.

The entirety of his left arm was covered in tattoos; from his wrist all the way to his shoulder before spreading across his left peck. Beautiful, diverse designs decorated his skin and I took it all in.

Tattoos had always been a weakness of mine, but when they were on someone as beautiful as Austin, all the while begin the most beautiful artwork I had ever seen, tripled the attraction.

"Austin, these are amazing," I exhaled, running my fingers gently across his chest and down his bicep. "There are so many."

"They all have a meaning," he admitted in a whisper, and I raised my eyes to meet his. "Once we get to my part of the bet, I'll explain them to you."

I furrowed my brows, wondering what that could possibly mean, but I didn't get to think too much about it. As soon as Austin lips were back on mine, all thought process flew out of the window.

"Bedroom," I murmured against his lips, "first door on the left."

He didn't waste a single second; scooping me into his arms as I secured my legs around his waist before maneuvering us through my dark apartment.

As the broad, handsome stranger decorated in ink stripped me bare, I had never felt more cherish.

He was a shadow as he held me, backing my up slowly as his hands explored my body.

I never knew a kiss could feel like this, that the simple action allowed me to feel as if I were soaring.

And I allowed myself to fly into the universe.


A year later...

Austin

"Are we about ready to open up," Barry asked, and I paused from polishing the countertop.

"Yep. I've double checked everything, we are ready."

Barry nodded and began making his way towards the bar entrance, flicking on the neon sign. And I waited behind the counter, bouncing with excitement.

Superbowl Sunday had officially arrived, and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers were fighting for another ring for the second year in a row. And although it wouldn't be taking place in our own city, the entire population of Tampa Bay, and Florida, was watching from the comfort of their homes or local bars.

And the moment that Barry unlocked the door, people began piling in, and I immediately got to work, keeping my eye on the television as I waited for kickoff. Chatter steadily increased as more people arrived over the next half hour, and I found myself serving drinks left and right, pausing only to grab a sip of water.

But luckily, once the game started, people began to settle and I was able to lean back into the counter, watching the game as I took a breather.

"Hey, handsome."

At the sound of the familiar voice behind me, a grin overtook my features – even a year later, just the sound of her made my stomach somersault.

I turned, taking in the brunette beauty that had caught my attention from the moment I first laid eyes on her.

"Hey, baby," I greeted, leaning in to peck her lips gently before grabbing the stool I had saved just for her, heaving it over the slab of marble to place it on the floor beside her. I grabbed her belongings, storing them underneath the bar, and began mixing together a favorite drink.

The bright blue liquid began filling the glass and I glanced over my shoulder at her. She was eyeing my arms as they flexed with each movement, and I smirked. She had a thing for my tattoos when we had first met, and I had added on to my right forearm over the year, beginning a new sleeve – something that she had no objections about.

"Here you go, darlin'," I said, placing the beverage in front of her. "One Sex in the Driveway." 1

She gave me a flirtatious smile, crooking her finger to motion me closer. I leaned down, nearly nose to nose with her.

"So, what's your bet on the game this year?"

I leaned my head back on a loud laugh, reaching forward to intertwine her fingers with mine.

"Hmm, I'll think about it," I teased, kissing her quickly. "If my luck is anything like last year, then I'm one lucky son of a bitch."

She giggled, shaking her head as she hid her blushing cheeks behind her hair.

And I smirked, hiding my nerves behind the wicked curl of my lips – I knew what my bet would be, I just had to play my cards right; exactly as I had done a year ago.

Last year, in this exact spot, I had betted that if the Bucs won against the Chiefs by two touchdown, then she had to do something for me – they had, and later that night, while she was curled naked against my chest, she had asked me what I had wanted from her.

I had smirked like a cocky bastard, stroking her hair before grabbing a fistful of it, pulling her head back for her lips to meet mine. And I admitted that I had wanted her. I told her that I wanted her, beyond that night, that I wanted a chance to get to know her and have her indefinitely – that was if she wanted me.

Lucky for me, she had, and since then, we had become inseparable.

"Well, I think my bet is that if the Bucs win by one touchdown, you have to say yes to anything I want for the next week," she exclaimed, pointing a perfectly manicure finger in my direction.

I smiled. She naively opened the perfect door for my demand.

"Okay," I nodded, "and if they win by three, then you have to say yes to anything I want." She pretended to ponder, but I waggled my finger in her face. "Nope. Too late. No take backs. That's what I want."

She laughed, but nodded, nonetheless. "Fine, fine. But I'm feeling pretty confident this year."


The Bucs had won. By three touchdowns exact. 2

And as everyone around us hooted and hollered, celebrating the city's biggest win against Tom Brady's former team, I prayed that I was about to celebrate mine.

I gipped Ally's hand, dragging her through the mess of people, out of the building, and into the streets as fireworks flared above us. She looked up; her eyes full of amazement as excitement poured from her in waves.

A Buccaneers jersey hugged her breast and torso, and I found myself staring at the flashes of colors reflecting in her eyes. I grabbed her hands, squeezing them gently before speaking loud enough for her to hear me over the chaos.

"So, I won, and now you have to say yes."

Ally laughed with a playful roll of her eyes, but it immediately fell, along with her jaw, as I dropped to the sidewalk on one knee. Her brows raised as tears instantly filled her eyes and began pouring down her cheeks.

With shaky hands, I reached into my pocket, pulling out the tiny, black, velvet box I had been hiding for months.

"Ally Dawson, when you walked through that bar door a year ago, I knew from that moment forward you would be the center of my world for the rest of my life."

She choked on a sob as she brought one hand to cover her mouth.

"You are my best friend; my everything. And I found in you what I never thought I would be blessed enough to have; the love of a lifetime. And I would be honored if you would spend the rest of our lifetime being my wife?"

Ally nodded vigorously, crouching down to wrap her arms around my neck, crashing her lips against mine.

Another round of cheers erupted from around us, but I knew it wasn't from the Bucs' victory.

I enveloped her in my arms, lifting us to our feet, gaining better leverage to kiss her. Once I pulled away, I reached to grab her hand, shakily sliding the ring on her delicate finger.

But she didn't bother looking down at the piece of jewelry. She simply cupped my cheeks, looking her eyes with mine.

"God, I love you so much."

I grinned, reaching to remove a fallen strand of hair from her face.

"And I love you," I claimed, capturing her lips in another kiss as the sound of fireworks erupted above us. But it all faded out as I poured every ounce of emotion into our kiss.

For five years, I had worked tirelessly at a bar, watching women come and go while eyeing them from time to time. My life was nothing but a constant; waking up each morning and hitting the repeat button.

Little did I know, I carved, longed for something more.

And the moment I seen her; I felt it. When she laid her chocolate colored eyes on mine, I got a glimpse of what I had been looking for my entire life but never thought I would find.

She brought a light into my life when I hadn't realized it was dull. Her smile made every day worth living, her unconditional love filled the hollow fragments of my soul, and her laughter was my entire world.

And over the course of the past year, she had not only become my best friend, but my everything.

What a lucky son of a bitch.


How did you guys like it? Leave a review to tell what you thought, if you wanna!

1.) I'm aware that the most popular drink is a 'Sex on the Beach' but there is also a 'Sex in the Driveway' that is slightly different!

2.) Obviously I don't know who will go to the Superbowl next year or what the score will be, this is just an act of fiction.

-Meg