He's good looking but he's in a band... Not long-term dateable material! More like a one-night-stand.
"Thanks," I say, "but I'll pass on the drink. If this is your way of trying to buy me for the night... It ain't gonna happen, buddy."
"Damn, you caught me!" he replies. A confident grin painted to his face. "It would've been a fun night," he adds. He's smug which is not as endearing as he clearly thinks it is.
He leans his elbow on the bar, his whole body is facing me and he is a little too close for comfort. I pass the drink that he bought me towards him. But he stops it with his hand and passes it back.
"Let's just say that I ordered it for you because you look miserable," he tells me.
"I look miserable? Gee, thanks!" I mumble as I turn toward my own glass.
"No, I don't mean it in a bad way. I just mean that... Look, I've been up there for half the night and every time I've noticed you, you seemed..." He's choking on his own words.
I wait a few more moments for him to finish, but he doesn't, which leads me to ask: "do you write your own lyrics?"
"I do, why?"
"Well, I just find it funny how you can write a song and sing it in front of hundreds of people, yet you choke when buyin' a girl, a drink. Or are you just trying to give me the shy approach? I've seen it before, and I don't find it endearing!"
"The shy approach?" he asks, seemingly puzzled. I shrug and then nod. He sighs.
But before I can feel as if I have won, he adds "it wasn't a tactic. In fact, I've seen you here the past few nights. Every night after seven you arrive with your friend. Every night since Sunday, I have been building up the courage to come and talk to you. I didn't realize that when I finally did, that you would come off as, I don't know... a bitch."
"A bitch?" I scoff.
He imitates my earlier gesture with a shrug and a nod. I can't tell whether he is being honest or incredibly cocky.
But before I can choose my response and voice my opinion, he turns toward the bar, scribbles something down on the napkin and disappears into the crowd, leaving the napkin and the still full drink beside it.
Once again, I can feel the vibration of my phone in my pocket, which instantly brings me back to the reality. I glance over at Adam. He is sitting alone again, clearly wondering what is taking me so long.
I finish my half empty glass of beer and slam it down on the bar, frustrated. I look around, the strange vocalist has made his way back to his fellow band members and I can't let good beer go to waste.
I pick up the drink and glance down at the napkin, smirking at the message. I pocket the napkin and with the beer in hand, I return to Adam.
"Where'd Thor go?" I ask him.
"Back to Asgard? I'm not sure. You were right, he was straight! What did the Rockstar want?" Adam asks. Straight? Yeah, right!
I glance around the bar one more time. The Rockstar is preparing to perform his next set. For a brief moment, I wonder if it was his real phone number that he left on the napkin, along with his name. Jaime.
Nonetheless, Adam and I will more than likely be splitting the ride home so I hand him the beer. "Here, have a beer on the Rockstar," I say with a confident smile.
"He bought you a drink?" Adam asks. "Nah, you've earned it... He has a sexy voice and he's easy on the eyes!" The temptation to tell Adam that he left me his number is high, but knowing that Adam also lucked out, makes me resist.
Chapter One: Survival of The Fittest
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