Control

14

I discovered that night that her smile was my favourite thing about her. There were countless features that made the top ten: her laugh, her sense of humor, her legs. But definitely the one that trumped all others was her smile.

I found the bar she had described easily, making sure I was a little early. Apparently, lateness was ranked in the same irritation category as snoring and leaving the toilet seat up when it came to women.

The bar was a stereotypical, small establishment with wooden floors a slight shade darker than the bar, televisions scattered in various positions, and clusters of patrons, most of whom seemed to be „regulars‟. Some of these people wore scrubs, and I assumed this was a popular place for the hospital after work crowd.

I sat at a small, intimate table in the corner nearest the door, a window to my left giving me a clear view of the street outside. It was still bright outside, the hot summer‟s day winding down. The air conditioning of the bar was a welcome relief from the relentless heat. I sipped my beer while I waited for her, watching people as they walked down the street.

As eight o‟clock neared, I found myself trying to think of things to talk to her about. My apparent lack of this kind of preparation while asking her out had resulted in a less than stellar display on my part. So I at least wanted to have some idea of what to talk about in an attempt to make up for my earlier fumbling.

I found myself lost in my thoughts for a long while before I looked at my watch again, noticing it was now 8:15. God, I hope she wasn‟t standing me up. Thankfully, at 8:28, she walked in the door. She had changed into a pair of brown capris, a white thin strapped shirt emphasizing her chest. I couldn‟t help but let my eyes trace her body, but made sure not to linger too long on any spot that would get me in trouble.

She noticed me easily, coming over to my table. I stood, smiling at her as she stopped behind the chair across from my own. "I was starting to think you‟d stood me up," I told her honestly.

"Sorry," she said, pulling out her chair and sitting before I had a chance to come around the table to make the gesture. "We had a code right at shift change."

I sat back in my seat, nodding as if I understood what she was talking about. I tried to keep the confused expression from my face, but apparently I was unsuccessful.

"Someone came in with no vital signs." She explained, a cute smirk turning up the corner of her mouth.

"Ah," I nodded in earnest this time. "Thanks for the clarification. I was starting to picture secret service agents with briefcases and classified coded information or something walking through the department."

She gave me a strange look, like she wasn‟t sure if I was kidding or not. Thankfully, her smirk was still in place. Even more thankfully, the waitress stepped up to our table to take her drink order. She ordered a beer, and I made a mental sigh of relief. I never understood girls who ordered fancy, fruity drinks with citrus wedges and umbrellas.

We sat in silence for a few moments, Adysons attention turned to look out the window at the people walking by, as I took the opportunity to watch her.

She had let her hair down, the dark chestnut strands curling under slightly at the ends as it fell around her shoulders. The contrasting white of her thin strapped shirt showed off her tanned skin. I noticed she wore no jewellery. Not even earrings. She wore no makeup. I wondered if that was a personal or professional tendency.

The waitress appeared with her beer, and left quickly. The bar had becoming increasingly busy since I had arrived.

"So," I started, deciding it was better to break the silence now rather than to let it continue into an uncomfortable duration. "How was your day?"