“You’re not wrong,” I grin, and he laughs. When he walks away, my view across the bar opens up, and I stop.
“Hello…” I murmur under my breath just before my glass touches my lips again.
My attention is locked on two women seated at the other end of the bar.
One of them is wearing a black peacoat. She has gorgeous dark hair and fair cheeks and her blush from the cold matches the pink of her lips.
She’s cute, but she’s not the one who has me holding my drink in midair, frozen between the bar top and my waiting mouth.
It’s her friend I am intrigued by.
She’s thin, but not two salads and an hour of cardio a day thin. Naturally thin. Her blonde hair is pin-straight and parted perfectly in the middle. Her pointed features are accentuated, but her dimples give her face a cuteness that softens the sharpness.
I finally reunite my glass with my lips and suck back a decent amount of the drink while I continue watching her.
She sheds her jacket and I smirk.
She’s wearing a sweater dress. I didn’t even know they made those anymore.
She’s talking to her friend, and her pouty expression tells me she’s having a rough evening.
It appears she came here for the same reason most people go to bars on Friday nights…to drink away the stress of the week. I wonder what that week entailed and what’s got her so tightly wound.
What it would be like to unravel her…
The bartender sets down two tequila shots for them, and I watch as they toss them back. Her mouth puckers before she reaches for a chip.
I smile.
“Hungry?” the bartender asks.
I didn’t even realize he was standing in front of me.
I’m too distracted by the girl who isn’t typically my type. Not that I really have a type. Women are like Ben & Jerry’s; just because Cherry Garcia is my go-to doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a tart Lemonade Sorbet from time to time.
“I only ask because you’re drooling,” he says.
“Yeah, I’m hungry…but not for food.”
He laughs and walks away.
I continue nursing my beer. It’s a local craft brew, malty with a hint of coffee and vanilla and a nice creamy foam head. I pick up my phone and scroll for a moment, and delete notifications. I like to appear busy and disinterested in my surroundings so it’s obvious to her when all my attention focuses on her.
I wait five seconds before I set my phone down and pick up my beer, realizing the sweater dress girl is looking at me.
She isn’t just casually looking either; she’sstaring at me.
She looks away and then right back at me again.
I feel heat in my own cheeks, among other places, because she's blushing so violently.
She straightens the black horn-rimmed glasses on her face, sliding them up the bridge of her cute, upturned nose.
I smile at her and take a sip of my beer, look away, take another sip, glance back, smile, and look away.
I want it to be obvious to her that I am interested and intrigued, but not desperate. Never desperate. Never creepy.
When I allow myself to look at her again, she is standing.
