Don't try to Escape

Chapter 1 - part III

He's just a man.

Very sexy, but he's just a man, I have to stop acting like a teenager.

Maybe it's been such a long time since someone looked at me like this. I turn my head from one side to another, deviating my thoughts. I look behind, trying to decide where to go to get out of here. It's better leaving before that embarrassing moment come. That moment where he thinks I'm easy and begins to talk to me, I say that I'm not interested, and he gets angry.

Typical.

My attention is back to the bar. I deviate from the couple that is still arguing, and I leave Mr."Yes-I'm-hot" behind. A few steps later, a huge bar comes into view, and I feel relieved. I need a drink. I sit on a stool before the bartender.

"A 'sex on the beach' please," I order it, and pull my dress down.

Some dresses have the terrible habit of lifting on the hips. The bartender starts to make a drink. I hope that Sam is not upset with my little escape. I just needed some minutes to take off the nice girl mask.

Sitting on a stool beside me, there is a woman with the head covered by dreads playing with her drink. She looks at me with lovely eyes.

"Today is crowded, isn't?" she asks, making more gestures than sounds.

"I think so," I give her a crooked smile.

I stretch my arm to get the drink from the bartender's hand. My glass came adorned with a little umbrella and two straws, but I almost drop it when someone bumped my left shoulder. Instinctively, I turn to see who did it. A black woman looks at me scared and apologizes insistently. The bar is quieter than the rest of the environment, but alcohol makes people agitated. I give a thumbs up, and she leaves followed by another woman. I draw my attention back to the bar, and I finally have my colored drink. What time is it? I close my eyes and enjoy my delicious mix of orange juice and gooseberry. Refreshing. My expectations about this night disappeared for a second, but they are suddenly back when I remember that I can't stay here much longer.

Some movement beside me makes my eyes open, and I come back from the trance. The woman with dreads is no longer on the stool next to me, now there is a tall man, dark hair, and wearing a dress shirt. The guy from that box. It feels like some dry ice smoke is playing inside my stomach. Are you kidding me?! He orders some beer to the bartender and turns to me, leaning his arms on the counter.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His intensity comes like a wave over me. I accommodate myself uncomfortably on the stool, and I glance inside the bar, trying to avoid visual contact. I try not to forget breathing. Discomfort and embarrassment describe me at the moment. He caught me staring at him for five minutes. You know what? I don't care! I sip my drink once more, and it's too sweet. I pray for someone to set the fire alarm. The brunet turns to take the beer, and his long fingers surround the bottle given by the bartender. Just grab the beer and leave. Bye. He makes me agitated, what it is very rare. I guess it is better to get out of here.

I peep out at him on the right, and I'm blessed with the sight of him drinking beer from the bottle and then smiling in a particular way. His strong neck stretches when the slugs pass through his throat, agitating his Adam's apple.

Ok. He is hot.

Really, really, hot.

And so what?

I can easily find the words that describe him: strength, control, and testosterone. That simple.

Closely, the "predator" seems more sophisticated and serene. He doesn't seem to be more than 30, despite his unique peacefulness for someone young. His skin is somewhat tanned, his neck is thick and is asking for hot and long kisses. The intensity stills sweating out of his pores, but that wild look was gone. The positive attitude gives him an air of superiority, almost prepotent. He wants to impress. Maybe, intimidate. His spontaneous behavior says that he impresses people all the time, it's familiar to him. I think of confronting him and cut off his hopes of easy sex, but maybe he comes just to relax, as I do, and that possibility holds me back. He doesn't want some beer, this is clear, his VIP box has an exclusive bar. So, what is he doing here? A stream of boldness makes me turn in his direction and look in his eyes. Green on black. That surprises him. His breath stops for a second, but quickly this reaction goes, and he seems comfortable again. He puts the stool next to mine, and I incline my head sideward, intrigued.