Hit Me With Your Sweet Love

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   I can't get that guy out of my head. Nobody actually flirts with the strippers, literally. All the guys love to flirt but not offer us drinks or anything. With his jet-black hair in a fringe, icy blue eyes were watching me intently, I just can't get him out of my head, and it is slightly affecting me. Just slightly. I'm so lying to myself.

A slight ping from my phone catches my attention. Is it Phil? Why did I kiss his cheek? Oh my god so many regrets.

Unknown Number: Hey it's Phil, is this Dan?

Dan: hey phil yea it's me

Phil : oh my god thank you for giving me your real number

Dan: Yea why wouldn't I?

Phil: wanna meet up? We can go to a coffee shop or something

Dan: I need a shower so text later?

Phil: Yea Yea

Letting out a sigh of regret, I manage to get out of bed. See the problem being here, I'm a pastel. I don't really like publicly showing that outside of work, really. I mean what would he think of me? Really. Standing at my mirror, I catch a glimpse of my messy hair, the coffee brown curls falling everywhere.

    Okay so maybe the shower excuse was a slightly bad idea. Picking out some simple pink skinny jeans, and an oversized light blue sweater, I'm ready for the day. Oh who am I kidding, I'm not even close to being ready. My self esteem can not handle to go out today, but I kinda have too.

Dan: which coffee shop?

As I wait for his response, I run my hands through my hair nervously. Although the perk is that my hair may actually look somewhat decent. As my phone goes off, I see a text from Phil.

Phil: PJ's cafe on main? We can meet like now, do you live by there?

Dan: I literally live right beside that place


Dan: please don't be a 13 year old girl thanks

Phil: meet me there in like 10 minutes?


  Holy shit, he actually wants to deal with me? A slight blush on my cheeks, but then I remember that I literally can't date him. If I do, I get fired, so yea, just friends. Friends that kissed one on the cheek. Okay okay. So maybe I slightly like the guy, his blue eyes...

    Okay, wow. I really, need to stop.

     As I make my way towards my shoes, I pick out a pair of white high tops, before venturing down towards the coffee shop. When I said I live right next to it, I literally mean I live right next to it.

    Walking the short distance, I'm met with the familiar sounds of afternoon traffic, and just people in general. I always feel so different from others, like I live two lives. One is the confident, and lust driven man on stage, the second being a just regular, very shy, and very quiet man. My two personas completely different, one for the bar, another for my daily life.

That's why my stage name is Bubblegum Bitch, that and I love the song, but still. The one thing I was known for was my chewing gum, and that I like what I like. Although I'm greeted by reality as I walk through the doors of the coffee shop. The aroma of coffee and cream hitting my nostrils. Looking around, I see Phil at a simple table, looking around nervously by the window.

I'm greeted with a small wave, as I go to sit down, and holy hell we are opposites. Instead of wearing soft pastel outfits, he wears the entire opposite of my wardrobe. His black lip ring, matched with his black leather jacket, and adding his combat boots. He looks quite intimidating if I'm being honest.

"You were very drunk." I laugh, as I see a soft smile start to form on his lips.

"Very drunk but I still don't have any regrets." He shrugs, making me blush slightly.

A waiter comes by and takes our order quickly, and as soon as the waiter goes Phil jumps at the opportunity to continue talking with me.

"Do you have any other jobs?" Phil questions, poking at his lip ring with his tongue. Nervous habit.

"Nope, just work as a stripper, makes decent money actually. You?" I explain, as the waiter brings us both some coffee.

     "Since today is Saturday I'm off, I work in a book store during the week." The punk explains.

     "The punk sells books?"

   "The pastel is a stripper?" He raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of his coffee

     "Alright, alright fair game, so our occupations are our complete opposites."

    "You've got that right." He mutters under his breath, earning a glare from me.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 25, and you Dan?"

"I'm 22."

"Oh so you're young." He laughs

     "So why'd you invite me here? Are you like most guys who think I'm a prostitute, and want to pay me to fuck? If so just get it over with now." I sigh, leaning back in my chair.

"I don't want to pay you to fuck, nor do I want to fuck you. Well you are very attractive and-" The punk rambles

"Okay Phil I get it."

"No-wait Dan, have you been taken on dates and the guys only want to fuck you?"

I look at my feet unable to answer, and wait did he just mean we might be on a date? Wait wait wait.

"So you have." He sighs, putting his head in his hands.

We sit in silence, until the waiter comes and Phil gets the check.

"Let's go to my place we can watch a movie." He says, pushing his chair in.

I follow him out the door with my coffee, as we go to the apartments across the street from this place.

As we enter the apartment, I realize it literally is an exact replica of his personality. Band posters line the walls, combat boots across the floor, it suits him though.

"Welcome to my home." He laughs, as I take off my shoes.

As I look at his smile, and listen to his laugh, I realize that, maybe I could just break that no dating rule.

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