DAVID
Maybe the cold alcohol that slipped past my lips was comforting enough, or perhaps the woman I've been watching all night long was ten times more comforting. I have no reason to stay in this bar for as long as I have, fiddling with the watch on my wrist as my eyes flicker away from hers for a moment. Sobering up was my excuse, but I know deep down that it was much more than that. Besides, I've ordered two more drinks since I've sat here--what kind of sobering up is that?
The only two things rushing through my mind right now were how I planned on getting home and how pretty the girl I've been watching is. She's got straight blonde hair that falls down her shoulders down her back and tiny, soft features, and as her eyes flicker back up to meet mine, a small smirk pulls across her plump lips. She bites down on her bottom lip and looks away, and a soft smile tugs across my face. I can't remember much about when I ordered my first drink at this bar a few hours ago, my coworkers at my side, but I could remember her bright, brown eyes as she peered over at me, the lights above the bar reflecting off her skin, causing a glow which I can swear I've never seen before. I try to recall the sound of her voice when she called, "tequila! That's mine!" The music was loud and it was almost hard to comprehend her words and yet I think she has a soft voice; a voice that fit her and only her.
Being on my fifth drink of the night as I nurse a glass of scotch, I find it hard to remember much of anything that had occurred before I'd started drinking. I know, however, that I need to get home before I do anything I regret. I shake my head as I down the remainders of my scotch, setting the glass down and standing up. I nod at the bartender, force a smile across my face, and make my way towards the bathroom. I figure speaking with the woman I've spent all night eyeing would do no good. I'd probably regret it in the morning, when I woke up in my bed alone, the smell of her perfume a distant memory, but then again that's typically how most things in my life went. Upon reaching the bathroom, I run my hands through my hair in attempt to tame the messy waves, a sigh falling from my lips. I splash water over my face in an attempt of sobering up, my stomach tight. I dry off my face with a crumpled up paper towel and stare into the mirror at my reflection.
I exit the bathroom, shoving my hands in the pockets of my trousers and clearing my throat. I intend to give the woman one last lingering look, commit her appearance to memory, but as my eyes scan the dimly-lit bar I realize she's disappeared. Disappointment clouds my senses as I push the bar door open and exit, cold air greeting me. The fresh, cold air is enough to slightly sober me up as I head towards the train station, my hand fishing in my pocket for my wallet.
I take the stairs down and pay for entrance, making my way towards the platform and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. It's half past midnight and incredibly hard to see anything, and as I pull a cigarette out of the package and place it between my lips, lighting the end, I'm thankful for the small illumination it offers. I take a drag from the cigarette, holding it between my fingers as I walk down the stairs and to the platform. I'm much too drunk to drive home, and although I absolutely despise taking the rain I suppose it's better than crashing on the way home.
Standing in front of the train tracks fills me with a myriad of thoughts, one of them being jumping. But why the fuck would I do that? It wouldn't solve anything. My mind flickers back to the events of today, lips pressing together in a frown. It'd been a shitty day and an even shittier week.
My vision was blurry, legs wobbly and head completely in a daze. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings and I figure I probably should start, because there's definitely a strong possibility of someone mugging me. I blink a few times to clear my vision and rub at my tired face, putting out my cigarette and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. I can hear Molly's voice in my head, reprimanding me for smoking, telling me that cigarettes are bad as her tiny hand reaches up for mine. I shake the thoughts away and that's when I notice her, standing right next to me.
Her focus was on everything in front of her, although she seems unaware of my presence. Her hair whips as a strong gust of wind rushes past her, her lips glossy and cheeks red from the chill of the wind. She appears scared, her foot tapping softly as her gaze darts about. She's got earbuds in her ears although one dangles at her side, her ear free as though she's making sure she can hear what's going on around her, her dainty hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket. She shifts slightly and swallows.
I bite down on my bottom lip as I study her. The train whooshes into the station before I can get too lost in my head, the girl tipping her head slightly at a man that walks past. He's got a smirk on his lips and he eyes her like she's a piece of meat, but she holds her own as she shoves past him and walks into an empty train car. I join her, entering the car through the doors in font of me. The car was empty, thankfully, a safe and calm atmosphere, warm air blowing in from the vents. I sit down before she does, set down my wallet and keys on the small table in front of me and watch through half-open eyes as she sits down across from me, sprawling out her legs over the other few empty seats beside her. She takes her phone out and keeps her eyes glued to the screen, the bright light from the screen illuminating her features, casting a white glow over her skin.
I look away before she can catch me staring, turning my attention towards the window. I wonder if tomorrow will be better. It must. Hard to be worse than today. A soft voice grabs my attention, brings my gaze back over to her. "Long day?"
A raspy chuckle leaves my lips. "You don't even know the half of it," I answer, rubbing my hands together in an attempt to warm them up. New York is unforgiving around this time, as autumn slowly morphs into winter.
Her plump lips form a soft smile as she reaches up to pull out her earbuds, running a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry to hear it," She says, dropping her hands to her lap. Her fingernails are painted a bright yellow that I'd usually find to be annoying but somehow suited her--bright, just like her eyes. She's wearing a little red dress and I can see the outline of her lacy bra under as she lifts her arms, humming out a yawn. "Rough day at work?"
I look down at my lap and nod. "Mindreader?" I ask, glancing up at her. Her lips pull apart in a grin and she shakes her head.
"You, uh," She gestures at the small table separating our seats. "Your badge fell out of your wallet, doctor." I look down at the table and let out a light chuckle, reaching for my wallet and keys, tucking my nametag inside.
"A patient died," I say, propping my head up on my chin.
"You must be used to that, though," She muses aloud. "Being a doctor, that is. I mean, you must have patients die all the time."
I hike my shoulders. "Yes, but it usually doesn't hit so deep." I purse my lips and wonder if I'll ever meet someone who's voice sounds as much like music as hers does. I could listen to it all day. "What's your name, doll?" I ask, after a beat of silence.
The girl offers me a small smile as the train comes to a halt, the conductor's voice electronic as it hums through the speakers, alerting us that we've arrived at the station. "Josephine," She tells me, as she stands up and smooths the skirt of her dress down over her thighs.
A pretty name for a pretty girl, I think to myself as I watch her swing her small bag over her shoulder. "And your's?" She asks, glancing over her shoulder at me, a small smile on her lips. I think with a sting of pain how much it'll hurt to never see her again, never hear her voice again.
"David."
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[a/n]
thought i'd try something new and give u a david pov right off the bat !! hope u like teehee
