And I'm instantlyinspired.Two absolutelycanplay that game.
I grab some tissues andwipe the bit of moisture that escaped the confines of my eyelids,fixing the makeup it smudged.Fortunately there isn't much sinceI'm only wearing some mascara.I ask to borrow Lily's lip-gloss andshe watches as I put it on, her eyes alight with mischief.Carl'sare full of concern, but she doesn't voice it.I take a few deepbreaths, muster some false confidence, and make my way back to thebar.
We each order new drinks,except of course for Carl, and this time, I offer the bartender asugary smile.Out of the corner of my eye I see that Sam's booth ismostly empty now.Only Tucker and Sam are still seated, while Tucktalks in hushed tones and Sam seems to chug as much beer as he canin as little time as he can.The hot slutty girls, including theone who had been flirting with Sam, are gone, and a quick survey ofthe small bar reveals that they've moved on to a group of hipsterlooking guys in the far corner.
A wave of relief rollsthrough me.But it doesn't change my plans.I am fueled by vodka,bitterness and resentment, and I need this distraction.
The bartender is receptiveto my new friendly demeanor and he starts chatting me up aboutdifferent types of patrons and their preferred drinks.I struggleto feign interest.I couldn't care less.Even though thebartender—who has definitely told me his name even though I can'tfor the life of me recall it—is pretty damn handsome.I find myselfbarely registering the conversation, and instead, I draw silentcomparisons between his features, and the far superior onesbelonging to Sam.Bartender guy has blue eyes too, but they'redull.They are missing that depth, that shimmer, that Sam's have.They don't have his impossible ability to see right throughme.
Bartender guy also haswhat I'd call a baby face.Soft looking cheeks, without Sam'srugged bone structure, or the definition in his jaw.When he getscalled away to serve drinks at the other end of the bar, I'mrelieved.My plan isn't working.My heart just isn't init.
I turn around to findmyself staring at the friendly face of Dave.I sigh indefeat.
Dave nods in the directionof the bartender."Seems you've got a fan, Pine."
I shrug.I can tell Daveis holding back.Certainly he's wondering about my outburst, but hehas the decency not to ask me about it.
"You got a cigarette forme?"I ask.
Dave smirks, like he knowsexactly how badly I could use a cigarette right now.He pats hispockets and comes up empty.I follow his gaze to the one booth inthe bar I don't want to go anywhere near.At least not again.Davesmiles apologetically.
"They're in my jacketpocket.I'll go grab them, wait here," he says, and Inod.
Dave turns to go push hisway through the faceless bodies, in no rush, obviously hesitant tointerrupt whatever conversation is currently underway between Samand Tuck.
"I got one for you, sexy,"a low, unfamiliar New York accent slurs.I turn into the tallstranger that must have overheard my exchange with Dave.I don'tsay anything, but the drunk stranger is already producing acigarette from his pack of Marlboro Lights.
I accept it with a murmured"thanks", and then turn back to Dave to see if I could get hisattention to let him know I have one.But he's still looking for asafe way to interrupt a heated, beer pounding Sam and a seeminglyreproachful Tuck to get to his jacket.
"Why don't you join meoutside to enjoy it?"Drunk Stranger offers.I hadn't even realizedhe was still there.
"Um, no thanks.I'mwaiting for my friend," I reply.I know Dave will keep me companywhile I smoke, even if he doesn't want one himself.
"Friend, huh?Not aboyfriend?"Drunk Stranger persists, and I vaguely shake my head.In my mind I'm laughing hysterically at the suggestion that Davecould be my boyfriend, but on the outside, I'm too uncomfortable tobe anything but awkward."Well in that case, I'm sure I'll bebetter company than he will."Drunk Stranger smirks suggestivelyand I practically cringe.I take a step back, but he advances,presumptuously infringing on my personal space and putting meimmediately on edge.
"Um, no thanks.But thankyou for the cigarette," I force out, but he's not taking the hint.Instead, he reaches out and fingers a lock of my hair, and I turnaway from his touch.
"Don't."My voice isbarely more than a whisper, and I don't know why I'm not being moreforceful with my rejection.
Instead of backing off,Drunk Stranger's smile falls away and he seems put out.Like I'vedone something to offend him.
"Just come outside with meand smoke the fucking cigarette I gave you."
My eyes go wide.Hisfingers close around my wrist and pull to lead me outside and Igasp, my feet planting themselves firmly in my spot, digging myheels into the sticky floor.I want to shout that I'm not goinganywhere with him, but I'm too drunk, and too surprised by hisnerve to articulate my thoughts.
I yank my arm away and helets go, seemingly surprised.
And then he'sgone.
He didn't leave, he wasjust right in front of me—practically on top of me—one minute, andthe next, he's flown several feet away.It takes a moment toregister that the movement came from the force of Sam's fist flyinginto Drunk Stranger's jaw, the blow sending him half across thebar.
My jaw drops.I hadn'teven seen Sam leave his booth.
Sam makes to jump on DrunkStranger, to do even more damage, but Tuck and Dave are instantlythere, holding Sam back, trying to talk him down.I can do nothingmore than look on in horror.Sam is enraged, his restraints onlyexacerbating his fury, and his eyes dart from side to side,reflecting betrayal at his friends who are preventing him fromgoing after Drunk Stranger.
Drunk Stranger stands,takes a moment to shoot me a dirty glare, and then spits blood ontothe floor.
"Fucking touch her again,motherfucker!I fuckingdareyou!"Sam roars, and I flinch back at the wrathin his words.
