Silent Heart-How they meet Challenge

1.

I am sitting down, all alone, on the bar stool of The Champ Bar/Club in Atlanta when I feel someone sit next to me and tell the bartender, "Can I have a Jameson on the rocks?"

I don't even have to look at the person to know it's a guy. The tone of his voice pretty much gives it away - it's deep and sensual and surprisingly it's just the way I like it.

There is also the fact that even if I look there is no way I will be able to tell what he looks like and that's because of how dark they keep this place. They says it's to keep the mystery and excitement of not knowing what people look like. Part of me likes it and the other part of me thinks it's stupid, but it's not my bar so what do I know?

The bartender is standing in front of me giving me my second tequila (okay my fifth) when he nods at the guy. After pouring my drink the bartender goes and prepares the guy his 'Jameson on the Rocks'. How fancy. Totally Not. That shit is expensive, but I guess he can afford it so good for him.

A second later and the bartender hands the guy his Jameson on the Rocks. For some reason curiosity takes over and I glance at mystery guy. His eyes are focused on the wall and as he takes a zip of his drink I can't help but wonder what's got him so down? Could it be a girlfriend? Or a family problem? He just looks so lost in his thoughts that I can't help but want to ask him. Yet as he takes another zip I can't will myself to ask him and I don't know why but I decide to just leave it.

Ten minutes and three tequila shots later and I can feel myself getting buzzed. Also mystery guy is still here. Hasn't said a word except to ask the bartender for his second Jameson on the Rocks.

When he finishes the drink I think to myself that he is probably going to leave, but instead he just looks at me and smiles. I smile back and I have the urge to talk to him but mystery guys beats me. "Before I leave I must ask what is a pretty woman like you doing here all alone?"

I shall answer his question. In a cool manner that is. And that's exactly what I do. I take a shot of my tequila and slam it down (not too hard) on the table. "I am just trying to get drunk." I motion the bartender to pour me some more and he gladly complies.

"And why are you trying to get drunk?" He asks and this time his voice is dripping with amusement. And that leads me to wonder what's so amusing to him?

Instead of answering him I take another shot of my tequila. God, that feels good. The cool liquid going down my throat just feels fucking amazing. I feel like it takes away all the worries, all the problems, that will most likely be there tomorrow. So I might as well enjoy the night. By dancing, of course.

Dizziness and the urge to bend over and vomit come to me the moment I get up from this stool, but before I can do so a pair of hands come to my rescue. They're so muscular and gosh they feel amazing, touching my arms and all, they're so manly and strong. I would totally want them all over me. Ugh! No, Amanda, don't think like that. No more men. They're all jerks. No matter how manly their hands or they are.

I hear the manly arm guy chuckle. "Easy there, darling, I think you need to sit down before you puke all over the place."

Usually I would have argued but seeing as he is probably right, I decide arguing can be for later and sitting down can be for now.

I giggle when I both sit down and motion the bartender to give me another shot. I don't know why I do that especially since just a few seconds ago I was about to puke. I shouldn't even keep drinking, but gosh it's so hard to stop when they're so good.

The bartender hands me the tequila and I gladly take it. I bring it up to my lips to take a zip, but then it is suddenly taken away from me by mystery guy. "How many of these have you had?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.