Ever Since New York

Worked Her Way Through a Cheap Pack of Cigarettes

The smirk wiped off his face and a look of shock crossed it instead. "Aiden." He stuck out his hand for me to shake.

"Kimber."

"What brings you to New York, Kimber?"

Waving the bartender over, he set four more shots in front of me. I throw two of them back, leaving the other two for later. "Big dreams. Want to be an author and New York is the closest you can get to the publishing industry without actually being in it. You?"

"Do you like it?" he looked at me with his face resting on his fist and narrowed eyes. My eyes widened. He didn't take the opportunity to make the conversation all about himself. It slightly bugged me that he completely ignored my question, but I was secretly pleased that someone was inquiring about me for once.

My eyebrows pulled together as I looked at him. I had sent in multiple pieces to be published but none of them took. I was avoiding my home-well, more specifically the man who unfortunately lived with me. And when I did finally decide to get out and go to my favorite bar, traffic was more backed up than a sick kid's nose.

"No."

His eyebrows shoot up. "No?" I shake my head, a little surprised I admitted that to a complete stranger. "Why not?"

The corner of my lips pulled up and I decided not going to spill my guts to this guy who could be trying to take advantage of me. "Well," I start, "traffic sucks. If you're planning on going somewhere, you have to account for traffic which could add an extra twenty minutes to your ride. I hate it."

"Is that all?" He laughed a little, taking another sip of his gin. "Just the traffic."

I stare at him for a minute, biting my lip. "There's that and a lot of the people here are pricks."

"You have a boyfriend."

"No."

The lie rolled off my tongue easily. I wasn't  going to allow myself to think about him. I came here to get away from him.

"Really?" his eyes narrowed.

I smiled, rolling my eyes, hating myself that I felt guilty about lying when he had treated me like trash less than thirty minutes ago. "I do actually."

His eyes lit up, obviously intrigued. He brings the drink up to his lips that are curved into a smile, taking a sip. "Why deny it?"

"He isn't particularly fond of me making new friends. What about you?" I ask, laying my hand on his arm, leaning in close like I'm about to tell him a secret. "Do you like New York?"

Aiden's eyes flicked down to my hand, then back up to my eyes. I swallowed the insecurity that was rising inside of me and offered him a small encouraging smile. He wet his lips as his smile grew. "It's quite big."

"It's big?"

"And busy."

I pull away, shaking my head. "There's got to be something you specifically like about it. Or specifically hate."

"I guess," his lips pulled into his mouth as his eyes wondered the room before settling back on me, "I like the people."

"What about the people?" I asked with raise brows, knowing all the ones I've come to know are horrible.

"I don't know, they just-."

My eyes lit up as I heard a familiar voice. "If you don't get out on the dance floor, I will personally drag you there."

I turned, finding the only bearable person in New York pulling me away from the handsome man at the bar. "Heather, I was in the middle of a conversation," I say, laughing.

"With a very handsome man, I might add." Heather looks over my shoulder, a smirk apparent on her face. "He looking at you, but it doesn't matter. You texted me you were sad, and your piece of trash boyfriend wasn't with you so here I am. We're going to dance and drink and you're going to feel better."

We're on the outskirts of the dance floor, which does not bother me. I would prefer not to be in the middle of a bunch of sweaty bodies and handsy men.

"This is, like, you're favorite song. Dance." Heather pushes me.

Slowly, I warm up to the music, loosing myself in the words and the beat. It's nice and comforting, however, I still find myself looking over my shoulder at Aiden, smiling coyly. I'm surprised to find him still watching me and not involved in a conversation with some other girl. Many have tried, there's a handful of them lurking around his place at the bar like sharks waiting to attack. But whenever one of them approaches, he turns them down and focuses his attention back on me.

Heather doesn't allow me to leave her side for the rest of the night. Any other time, I would be grateful but tonight-or more, this morning-I want nothing more to get back to my conversation with the interesting man at the bar.

The bar was closing soon. Heather and I were still dancing, my limbs sore. Aiden still sat at the bar, watching.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I said, pulling away from her. "I'll be right back."

In the bathroom, I grabbed a paper towel before heading back into the chaos of the bar.

"Do you have a pen?" I asked the bartender, who pulled a pen out of his pocket.

I scribbled on the paper towel, folding it nicely. Walking over to Aiden's place at the bar, he looked startled to see me in front of him. Before he could say anything, I slipped the paper into his jacket pocket and walked away.

"I'm ready to leave," I said, finding Heather.

"You want to crash at my place tonight?"

I nodded, not wanting to face the emotional abuse and two hour long yelling match tonight. As we got to the entrance, I turned back meeting eyes with the handsome man at the bar. I winked, smiling and then left, disappearing into the thick crowd of people that loitered outside.