a n i m a

blue jeans

dedicated to the lovely, kind, amazing person up there because she leaves the most wonderful, thoughtful comments ever and i can't thank her enough xo

 "i will love you 'til the end of time
 i would wait a million years
 promise you'll remember that you're mine."

❅❅❅❅

            His hair was the color of a starless night, or the color of his Chevy pickup he'd lean against. His eyes were wide, filled with adventure and a coldness emitted only from the pits of his soul. Clouds of thick smoke floated from the cigarette hanging between his soft lips as he smirked at those who passed him.

            He was untouchable as he leaned against that truck in the parking lot, daring someone to come out and test him. And everyone knew it.

            His acquaintances were few and his friends even less. A genuine smile had never dared to touch his lips and his name was only uttered in praise; although in everyone's minds it was muttered in mystery, or sometimes fear.

            His hand that wasn't clutching a cigarette was stuffed in the pocket of his blue jeans, ripped from privacy fences and overwear. He was the one that people wondered about. The one people didn't want to mess with. They stayed away because he had a reputation worse than the smell of those cigarettes. And that's how he liked it.

             It was early December, the first of the year's snow lying on the path before me as I hurried into the club, shaking the flecks from my hair. I hung my coat on the rack and walked behind the counter, grabbing a wash rag and wiping down the surface of the bar. It was a way to make ends meet, just until I could work out a plan to get my life back together.

            I was setting out the tip jar when he came in, a black jacket slung over his shoulder and his chest covered in a thin, white t-shirt despite the weather. I blinked as he sauntered to the bar, his high cheek bones wearing the tips of a mocking grin.

            "We're not open yet," I said, my voice stern and stiff. He kept walking, throwing a single penny in the tip jar before lighting another cigarette. "And no smoking." He ignored me, taking a puff and blowing the fumes into my face. With a huff, I grabbed the cigarette from his mouth, squishing the tip against the counter and staring him straight in the eye.

            "Get out," I ordered, my voice low and my eyes narrowed. He ran a hand through his hair, chuckling as he rose an eyebrow.

            "What's your name?" he asked, folding his hands on the bar and looking up at me. I put my hands on my hips in annoyance, rolling my eyes.

            "Kate."

            "Katie," he nodded, a crooked smile forming on his strong features.

            "Kate," I corrected, turning to flip on the entrance hall lights.

            "Dean," he introduced, causing me to sigh as I turned around.

            "That's really great to hear, thank you for telling me, Dean," I sneered sarcastically, clinching my jaw as I stared into those endless eyes. "But, I really don't care. And like I said, we're closed right now." Giving him a fake, sweet smile, I turned, walking down the length of the bar, past the rows of alcohol and drying dishes before opening the cash register. I began to count the money, making sure more than enough ones were stuffed in the drawer.

            He followed me, taking a seat in front of the register and biting his lip. I demanded myself to focus on the money, but soon the numbers melted away and I forgot my place as I gazed back at him.