“What are you drinking?” I ask, needing a moment to collect my thoughts. Looks like what I’m about to deliver will be taken much less positively than I thought it would.
On the way back from the bar with another soda water for me and a glass of white for Jenny, my eyes get caught on a collarbone. It’s delicate, calling for me from under milky, smooth skin. Something is happening to me. I can’t decide if it’s out of excitement or lust, or both. My eyes slowly rise to land on the face. She’s sitting in a booth; I can only see her profile which is simply put, stunning. My mind knows how to complete the face, given I’ve gazed at it before, mesmerized just a week ago when I saw her for the first time. She’s the very essence of beauty in my mind’s eye. Full lips, huge almond-shaped blue eyes, long, layered blond hair.
Those eyes though, more like weapons of mass seduction.
She laughs at something one of her friends said. An involuntary smile curves my lips to the sound of her laughter. Just like the time before, she doesn’t notice me. Hell, she doesn’t give anything, or anyone her attention but the group of friends surrounding her. She’s here to have a good time with her friends, period. She’s not looking for anything, that’s for sure. This leaves me with the thought that she’s either in a relationship or really into her friends. Strangely enough, deep inside I’m hoping for the latter. She brushes a lock of hair behind her ear and I can’t pull my eyes away from the skin just below her chin, the spot dotted with the sexiest beauty mark.
“Sorry,” I say to the person I accidentally bump into, finally tearing my eyes away from the beauty at the booth. I balance, almost spilling the drinks in my hand.
The drinks? Shit, Jenny!
Jenny’s eyes that just a few moments ago shone with excitement as I returned with the drinks, round with something in the vein of disappointment when I tell her that my schedule for the next couple of months leaves me with hardly any time and that we better end our thing.
“I don’t mind, we can still go out sometimes,” she tries to plaster on an easygoing smile.
See what I mean? The lyrics to her carol changed so much from the first time we met, which seems like history now, even though it was a couple of months back. The “let’s keep it casual” talk. Back then it was more about hooking up. Now it’s about going out.
I scratch the side of my neck in discomfort, truly hating doing this. I cover her hand with mine, “Listen, Jenny, I think we’re looking for different things. Even if I wanted, I can’t fit in a relationship right now. You’re great, maybe under other circumstances, we’d make a great couple.”
“Liam, why don’t we continue just—”
I shake my head, giving her an apologetic smile. “I have a feeling I’ll kick myself for this somewhere in the future,” I say. “But for both our sakes, I think we should end whatever we have going on. It’s unfair to you. You have so much to offer.”
Seeming to understand that my mind is made up, Jenny squeezes my hand. “When you’re about to kick yourself somewhere in the future,” she gives me back my words. “Do me a favor, Liam, and call me first.”
I drop my head with a grin and nod to my cup. I lift my eyes back to Jenny and send her a small apologetic smile. She rises to stand, leans closely to press a soft kiss on my lips, and walks away.
Yeah, it’s never really “casual.”
Liquor, Music, and Boys. It Always Ends with Boys
“Do you think they even have wine in this place? I mean, one that doesn’t come out of a carton,” Victoria says, wrinkling her nose. She gives the drinking establishment a cursory glance.
Kayla who just joined us, all glorified rocker in distressed jeans, a tight vest, and smoky eyes, gives my older sister a look that reads, “Hey princess, get that stick outta your tush, will ya?” Alas in a non-intimidating sort of way. “They have everything, things you didn’t know you needed. Jim, the barman, is a mastermind when it comes to cocktails.” She brushes her long red bangs behind her ear and places her drumsticks on the table.
Confession time. I might have a bit of a non-sexual girl-crush on Kayla. Hands down, she’s the coolest chick I’ve ever met. We actually met her here at Poison – what we call the locally owned bar fully named Poison and Wine, where her band plays regularly. Panda and I stumbled upon this place about a month ago. That night Kayla’s band played, and we became insta-fans. After the show, since we’re great believers in women empowerment, we decided to tell Kayla just how impressed we were with them, especially her. She joined us for a drink that turned into three and somehow before closing time she became a new member of our group. Our circle is small. We’re into quality over quantity. We had no doubt Victoria would approve even though she’s very picky with the people she lets in. It was an immediate thumbs up from my sister. And that was that.
Victoria grins at Kayla. “Okay then, surprise me with something I didn’t even know I wanted.”
“Oh darling, just so we’re clear, I’m not your date. You have the hot Viking chick thing going on but XY is my sex of preference.” That earns Kayla a peanut in the vicinity of her forehead and an even more radiant grin from my sister.
We start with cocktails while Kayla sticks to water given she’s performing in an hour.
“So Panda, how’s it going with, what’s his face, computer person?” Victoria asks, licking her lips after yet another generous sip of the cocktail Kayla ordered her…
I feel like deep inside Kayla is beyond sweet. The tough rock image is an exterior, maybe some sort of armor for a big, gentle heart.
“Going well, I guess.” Pandora nods. “We went on a third date yesterday; feels like it’s going in the right direction. I definitely want to explore further.” Another pause. “He’s a nice guy.”
I swipe my hair behind my ear with a weird vibe of being watched, which I disregard. Don’t care. Girls’ night out means I’m with the girls. They’re all I care about tonight. “Is it just me or are you not uber thrilled?”
“Well, there are no butterflies, you know.” She shrugs. “He’s nice.” Then she adds. “Yeah, he’s really. . . he’s a nice guy.”
“Nice,” I repeat with a frown. “Yeah, you’re very convincing with the weary repetitions.” I eye my friend. “Don’t you feel like you’re compromising in a way? Is nice really enough?”
Vic throws me a wicked, provoking sibling glance. “What are you now, Carrie Bradshaw? Will this end up in your column after a few more Cosmos?”
In an impressive mature act, I stick my tongue out at my sister. She scoffs in amusement.
Pandora, still seeming to contemplate my question, finally says, “Not really.” She shrugs again. “I don’t know.”
I rest both elbows on the table, leaning my chin on my hands, my eyes running over Pandora’s beautiful dark eyes and mischievous freckles. “I don’t know about all this swiping left or right dating stuff.” My brows pinch as I look at each of my friends. “When did it ever even become a thing?” I pause. “See, I for one am not interested in that. I think I’m a bit more . . . old school. I want the natural thing to happen. Someone to notice me as I – don’t know, have a drink with my friends? Stand in line at Starbucks? And get curious. Be pulled. Someone who will be intrigued by me, not my profile competing among a trillion others. A little bit of magic, you know.” I puff my cheeks and let out a lingered exhale. “I want to get to know someone slowly, not to have a whole file on them before we even meet. I want the thrill. The slow burn.”