When Love Returns | 2 ✔

Chapter 27

"Um, I want something strong. You're the bartender, you should know what to fix." To be honest, apart from tequila, margarita and whiskey, I had next to zero knowledge of the names of alcoholic drinks. I just hoped he got me something worth it.

"Here you go." The bartender said, placing a pint sized glass of what looked like water. Bracing myself, I downed it in one gulp and got the shock of my life as the drink nearly dried up my throat.

"What the hell is this?" I muttered between series of coughing. I had never tasted anything so throat-scorching as this. It looked innocent as water but sharp and tart as acid—not like I had tasted acid before but the description suited it—However, deep within me, I wanted another taste of it.

Here I am, getting attached to something destructive. Why do we seem to place ourselves into situations, people, whom we knew could burn us?

"Vodka!" The bartender answered with a duh look. I bet he was wondering what kind of girl came into a club not knowing what vodka looked or tasted like. And I definitely wasn't in the mood to tell him my sob story of not seeing until recently.

I came here to have fun, meet someone and forget about my problems.

"Can I have more?" using my puppy dog eyes, I asked like a little child wanting more cookies above the usual proportion.

"Whatever you say miss. I'm just here to serve." He replied, pouring down more of the unholy drink into my glass.

And so it went, me downing one glass after another. Every intake scalded my throat but left a burning urge for more. I felt myself getting tipsy but ignored it. After all, this was what I came for. Looking behind, I could see people gyrating to the music. Recognizing it as something I had seen on MTV base last week, I decided to go to the dance floor to get my groove on. Fishing out my credit card to pay for my drinks, the bartender stopped me.

"Your drinks have been settled by that dude over there." He gestured to a man leaning on the aisle a little far away from my position. He had a glass of what seemed to be whiskey and was staring straight at me.

My cheeks were aflame as I struggled to comprehend if he had been watching me this whole time. I knew I had been drinking ungracefully and I was fine with it. But being watched surreptitiously while I did that was highly mortifying.

Bemused and completely oblivious to the world around me, I barely noticed when the man in question came over and slipped onto the closest chair to me.

"Hi."

It was his deep masculine voice that brought out of my embarrassed thoughts. I turned to him and noticed him clearly for the first time.

When I described him as a "man", I was wrong because I thought he was much older. However, he looked quite young—Just a few years older than me—I think. He was ruggedly handsome, I might add, with a strong well built body with muscles. Surely, I had no doubt he worked out a lot. His hair was so dark and long, it grazed his shoulders. I was mesmerized by it. His eyes were as dark as his hair, my reflection stared right back at me as clear as day. He had the typical America male nose, slightly crooked when you stared at it from the side. He wore a white dress shirt and black pants, no tie, the top three collars were unbuttoned revealing a line of dark hair. The sleeves were rolled up, showcasing rolls of hair around his forearms.

"Hi."

He repeated and I snapped my head back up to look at his face which now had a huge smirk and a knowing grin.

He knew I had been ogling him unabashedly.

I wished I could disappear right there and then. I had only just met him and yet he had managed to make me blush twice in five minutes.