Ramblings - A Collection of Short Stories

Can't Handle Your Love - Part 1

I really should be studying for a Chemistry test that I'm fated to fail right now, but I can't bring myself to. Like the description for this collection states, I got the idea for this story at 10:30 at night and began writing it as soon I got my hands on my laptop so sorry if there's mistakes here and there. I posted this as soon as possible (which would be now which is 12:12am which is a bit more than an hour and a half after I began writing). This story features #19 Jonathan Toews from the Chicago Blackhawks. Enjoy!

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Can't Handle Your Love (Part 1)

The music was almost deafening and the lights were mainly turned down except for those highlighting the stage. Amateur bands from all over the city were currently showcasing their best music, given that they had passed through auditions, at the bar at which I worked. It was a particularly busy night for my job as a bartender yet the work wasn't was giving me the most stress.

Sighing, I wiped the last untouched spots of the black bar countertops before throwing the rag into the sink and rinsing it thoroughly. I heard someone tap the counter lightly at a spot right in front of where I stood; I knew that it wasn't meant to be a rude gesture. Putting a smile on my face (one that wasn't fake yet wasn't exactly genuine either), I looked up at the person. My grin gained an ounce of authenticity upon seeing the man's face. He was handsome. That was something that I couldn't deny. His dark hair was trimmed nicely and his face had the faintest hint of stubble. His face was angular, but at the right places. From a quick glance at his upper body, which was covered in a dark blue button-down, I could tell that he both dressed well and was perfectly fit.

"4 shots of whiskey," he said as he noticed that he had gained my attention. A small smirk was dancing along the left side of his mouth as I felt him give my body a quick look.

I wouldn't necessarily call myself model material but I work and am more than happy with what I had. My slightly wavy black hair fell halfway down my back and I kept myself in shape. I would be the first to admit that keeping fit isn't the easiest thing on the planet and, sometimes, it's something that I wish I could just forget about. Regardless, I still pushed myself to go the gym at least three times a week. Thanks to willpower, I found myself not exactly skinny, but just right. My heritage gave me tan skin that borders on a medium brown during the summer and my dark brown eyes were wide and, as my closest friends would say, often looked innocent. My height isn't the most impressive, but, as I said before, I worked with what I had.

I give the man a larger smile before saying, "Coming right up."

Just as I began to turn to faces the shelves of alcohol behind me, I glance at him from the corner of my eye. Not the man whose drinks I was beginning to prepare, but the man that stressed me out and made me apprehensive with every second I spent with him in the same building. He sat at the same table every time he came, the one at the far corner to the right of the stage, and he always dragged along one of his teammates with him. Yet, regardless of who he was with, he spent as little time as possible actually speaking with them and as much time as possible staring at me. His eyes were always trailing my every action. His mind was always analyzing my every move.

He came to this particular bar every chance he got and I knew that for a fact. It seemed impossible that every time he didn't have a game, just finished one, or was home from a road trip that he just happened to find himself at this bar. He knew that I worked here and he knew exactly when I worked during the nights. It was intentional that he came to this specific one at specific times and I had no idea why. Didn't break-ups constitute that being at the same place as your ex, unplanned, is the definition of an awkward situation?

I turned around once again and handed the man his 4 shots of whiskey, asking him if he wanted a tray and for me to serve it. He gracefully declined and offered for me to join him and his friend instead. His invitation elicited a laugh from myself and I gave him a shake of the head in decline.