Think I Want to Twist the Plot This Time

Part 2

Barbie can't stop looking, as he's so fixated on the bartender, who finally attends to him. She watches his lips and thinks he says something along the lines of "Bourbon, please." Then he procures a pack of cigarettes and matches from his inside pocket, quickly lighting one and inhaling.

He's thin like a scarecrow, his jacket hanging onto his frame loosely, but his button down seems to fit a little better. His dark hair, clean and trimmed short behind his ears, stands in a few short, messy curls from being stuck under his hat. Barbie picks up her seltzer water again so he doesn't realize her staring, but she's mesmerized by his long fingers as they pull the cigarette from his mouth. He exhales long and low, smoke curling from his lips to the ceiling.

This isn't like when she met her first elderly lady, who wore life so well in her white tresses and small, confident stature. This is giving Barbie a fluttering in her stomach, her heartbeat quickening. She feels her cheeks heat up from the staring, and she looks into her seltzer water to distract herself, watching the carbonated bubbles rise to the surface. Even the jazz music fades into the background.

She's been on a couple of dates since moving to the real world, guys she's swiped right on Tinder who end up being just as pretty as Ken (and somehow more vapid). They spent dates either trying to mansplain IPA beers to Barbie or quickly confess what they'd like to do with her. None of those men have affected her the way this one is right now, and she hasn't even spoken a word to him. She wonders if he's even given her a second look—she's colorful enough for one at least, right?

The bartender places a glass of amber liquid in front of the man. He's able to balance his cigarette in between his index and middle fingers as he holds them both and downs the whole thing in one go. Barbie watches the long column of his neck bob as he swallows, then flags the bartender down for another round.

She notices the long drag he takes, the sigh he gives as he exhales again. His blue eyes stare blankly ahead, glazed over with that sadness she'd clocked in his expression as he walked in. He hasn't noticed her staring at all. He's too wrapped up with whatever's going on in his head.

Barbie takes a quick glimpse at his left hand. No ring. So she won't be overstepping her boundaries if she simply says hi. Just a nice conversation for this night she's trying to pave for herself. There's no harm in being friendly. The bartender places his second drink in front of him.

Her heart's pounding as she gets up with her seltzer water, sliding into the barstool beside him. Finally he glances over at her, blinks. Then blinks again, as if getting out of a trance. Those eyes seem to look either right at her or maybe through her, they're so blue. "Hello," he says after a moment, his voice low.

Barbie flashes him a grin. "Hi," she says back. "Would you mind if I sit with you? You just... you looked a little sad."

"A woman as stunning as yourself? Not in the slightest." He takes another glance at her, then takes a sip of his drink, not downing it like before. "I suppose I am a little melancholy. I had plans to meet someone tonight, at The Palace, but she... doesn't like when I take her calls." His voice is slow and distinct, enunciating each word with deliberate purpose. No one talks like this in her time. Woman. Stunning. Those are the words ringing in her ears.

"I'm sorry." Barbie's smile fades when he confesses he's been stood up.

"No—it's probably for the best," he counters with another drag, making sure he's facing away from her as he exhales. He taps the remnants into the ashtray in front of them, and her eyes go to his fingers once again. Her mind flashes the thought of them curled around her own, and she blinks the feeling away. "You're here alone?"

Barbie nods. "I'm just visiting for the evening." How much information is she allowed to disclose? Maybe she can skirt around everything with some half-truths and vague suggestions.