“If you keep giving away drinks, you will be screwed alright.”
“You’re the first customer I have ever had that’s fought me on free drinks.”
“I’m sure but—”
“No buts,” he replied cleaning a glass. “Drinks are on the house.”
“Fine. How about the house pays for the first three drinks, and I pay for the rest?”
“How many do you plan on having?”
I shrugged. “As many as it takes until I’m numb?”
“Are you always this honest?”
“Only to the person who’s controlling the booze.”
He laughed, shaking his head at me. “Fine, the first three are on the house. Did you just move to Boston?”
“Yes and no.” That was all I was giving him, and he nodded, accepting my answer as good enough.
I was just about to ask for a couple slices of lime, when the lights in the place dimmed. A blue light illuminated the stage as a very attractive man, took center stage with nothing but a guitar in his hands. His hair was dark, almost black, like a starless night. His eyes were a deep emerald color, so striking that even in the dimly lit bar I could see them. Every time the light hit them, I felt myself being drawn in more and more.
Sitting on a stool, he played softly, almost as though he was trying to put us all at ease.
“This song isn’t dedicated to anyone… yet,” he whispered into the microphone, which gained him a few whistles and claps.
Rolling my eyes, I turned back to my drink.
“I carry a smile when I’m broken in two, all because of someone like you,” he sang and I stopped for a moment before turning back to him.
“What the hell?” I whispered to myself.
“Fooling the world; none of them know you as I do. Why not me? Why never me? Standing right here you masterful puppeteer.”
I don’t know if it was the lyrics, or just the way that he sang them. Either way I found myself unable to look away from him, even to drink. It was as though I had come here just to hear him sing.
I sat watching as he ran his hands over the strings of the guitar. I was transfixed, bewitched, and overwhelmed. I could feel my throat closing up.
“I should go,” I muttered to myself when his song was over. But I simply sat there, staring down at my drink and unable to move.
Finally, I lifted my glass and swallowed its contents, and Tristan, my good old trusty bartender, poured me a new glass. I didn’t feel like crying. In fact, I didn’t have any more tears to spill. I was just tired. I had spent the last three and a half months with my mom. We fought, we cried, and then she died – in that order.
“Can I buy you a drink?” a voice behind me asked.
I turned to find the same devilishly handsome man from the stage, standing right beside me. He stood over six feet tall. He was fit, but not in the bulky, bodybuilder sort of way. His skin was fair and flawlessly smooth, his lips were full, his features were chiseled and well defined, yet still, it was his eyes that truly captured my attention. Without being aware of it, I leaned in towards him and smiled. He was totally at ease.
“Tristan, should I let him buy me a drink?” I turned to the man behind the bar. Tristan snorted, looking over at the man who waited for a yes.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Thanks man,” the man said, frowning at Tristan while I laughed.
Tristan replaced my drink, which I had not yet finished, with something new and pink.
“Still vodka?” I asked him.
“Still vodka,” he nodded.
Smiling, I turned to the Casanova and shrugged. “Looks like I already have a drink, but, seeing that you’re empty-handed at the moment, I’m happy to buy you one,” I teased. I turned and dramatically rapped my knuckles against the bar. “Tristan! Give our friend here something manly.”
They both laughed at that.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said taking the seat beside me.
“You do see this drink is pink, right?” I asked him.
“I think I’m comfortable enough with my sexuality,” he winked.
This was usually the point where I left guys at the bar, but for some reason, I just shook my head. I didn’t want to leave yet.
“You were good, by the way.”
“What?” He smiled as he leaned towards me.
I pointed to the stage and grinned. “Your song, what did you think I meant?”
“Nothing,” he laughed. “And thank you, I didn’t think anyone noticed.”
“Why wouldn’t anyone notice?”
He raised an eyebrow and looked out over the dance floor. Following his gaze, I noticed that everyone was glued to each other, and no one seemed to care what kind of music was playing. It was Sunday, so I guessed everyone wanted to end their weekend on a high note.
“At this point, they might as well not have clothes on.” I tilted my head to the side, watching as a man’s hand worked its way up his partner’s dress.
“That’s what they’re working towards,” he laughed. “I’m Levi by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Levi,” I said trying not to seem interested. He was attractive, but I was more the type who’d rather look than touch.
Yeah right.
“This is the part where you tell me your name.”
“Really? Do you do this often?”
“Do what?” he asked with a frown.
“Sway women with your sultry music, then offer them a drink whilst staring deeply into their souls with your sexy green eyes, in order to get their names.”
“Sultry music? Sexy green eyes? Are you sure you aren’t the one that does this often?” He grinned so wide it was contagious.
Damn him.
“You’re good.”
“I’m sure you’re better.”
Oh damn him to hell.
“Dance with me,” he said, extending his hand.
“I may be black, but I have no rhythm what so ever,” I informed him. “I’m a terrible dancer, and I mean awful. I’ll step on your toes—”
He didn’t seem to care, because he took my hand anyway, and I shivered at his touch… I bloody shivered, as he led me towards the middle of the dance floor and pulled me closer.
“You’re going regret this,” I told him.
“Believe me, that’s not possible,” he whispered, spinning me around until my back was pressed against his chest.
I stopped breathing. I was afraid if I did, I would moan. I could feel him, all of him, behind me.
“Just relax, give in to the music,” he whispered into my ear, and once again it was like I had no control over my body.
He’s definitely done this before, I thought to myself. But I didn’t say anything. I just lifted my arms up and wrapped them around him as the music blasted around us. His hands softly grazed over my thighs.
“I still don’t know your name.”
“That’s because I still haven’t told you,” I whispered, turning back to him. His hands went to my waist and we both stared at each other.
I really couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe it was the alcohol, or because he was insanely attractive, or because I just wanted to feel something, but I closed the gap between us. That was all the invitation he needed to take charge.