Dean never passed up an opportunity to flirt with a waitress. He knew you hated it, but he knew what he was doing.

You’d spotted him from the bar stool, his figure in the corner of your eye chatting up a pretty waitress. Actually, no — beautiful waitress. Whenever you went out with Dean, he’d always flirt with some waitress, and she’d always take his breath away.

This time, tonight’s mystery woman, and her sapphire-like eyes, looked at Dean like he’d hung the moon. Dean knew how to get her attention, as he did you. He’d look her up and down, like he was searching for gold on her skin. And, before he met you, he’d always come to these bars looking for a girl and a good time; no strings attached.

But, there were strings between you and Dean. Clearly, they were invisible to him. It made you feel stupid, just watching him. You adored him, but you never saw him flirting with a waitress — with you in the same room, of course — until tonight.

Once the bartender slid you two shots of whiskey, you downed one and took the other with you, walking back to where Dean was sitting. Thankfully, the waitress went back behind the bar. By the time she returned, it was like you weren’t even sitting next to Dean. You downed the second shot of whiskey, before she spoke up.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asked, her face glowing as Dean smirked at her. God, she was pissing you off just standing there. Before Dean could respond, you interjected.

You shook your head, glancing down at the two empty shot glasses you had downed. “Put it on my tab,” you spoke up, “thank you.”

Oh, thank God you hadn’t completely lost your sanity from watching Dean and that waitress, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so polite. As she walked away, your head lulled down, your gaze down at the table. Dean looked at you, confused, almost as if he hadn’t been doing all of that.

“What was that for, sweetheart? Only havin’ some fun,” Dean leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. Okay, he was really starting to piss you off now.