She sat in the dimly lit bar and noticed the male to female ratio was extremely off. There were about three males to every female. She was too new to this city to know if this was the norm. Perhaps her sex just didn't frequent bars. Maybe they were just all married and happy with babies and didn't need to drink. She actually laughed out loud at that thought. As far as she was concerned, everyone needed to drink.
She scanned the room with sober eyes, as she had just ordered her second drink, and wondered what it would be like to sleep with them. They were all so new and foreign to her. This was an idea she would only entertain in her own mind, though. She was far too new to actually act on her thoughts and gain that reputation.
"You're drinking fast tonight." The bartender noted while sliding her another gin and tonic. She was. She hadn't noticed.
"I'm just seein' if you can keep up, darlin'." She annunciated with an accent much stronger than her own. She learned quickly that in the north southern accents get you a lot farther faster. Guys suddenly find you cuter, more adorable, and slightly less intelligent. All of these characteristics work in your benefit all the time.
The bartender pointed a finger at her and grinned as she stepped back as if to say, "oh, you." She pointed a finger back turning her finger into a gun using her thumb as a trigger, and when he turned around, she bent her thumb, silently adding sound effects. She could have him if she wanted him. He was attractive enough and obviously had fallen for her southern charm, but she reminded herself that wasn't who she was going to be.
She fought the urge to grab a random guy and push him up against a wall as she made her way to the restroom. Standing up, she realized she was much more drunk than she had felt only minutes ago. She stood in front of the tiny sink with the tiny mirror and studied her reflection. She had features that made her beautiful, but all she ever wanted was to be considered cute. Some girls can get away with both, but her features were too strong. Her high sculpted cheekbones and the bold color of her green eyes made too big a deal of themselves. She was annoyed when other girls admired her appearance. They stared at her with envy and even told her on some occasions and all she could think was how lucky they were. They were able to cultivate personalities and when they were asked for their number, it was because the guy was interested in them, not their face. You see, beautiful girls didn't have to be interesting and funny, they just had to show up. And being beautiful was nothing she decided on, it just happened upon her. She couldn't control it and since she couldn't control it, she used it to her full advantage. She got off on the power she had over guys. No one likes to hear which books the pretty girl surrounded by all the boys at the party has read or what she thinks about them, they just want other people to see that they are around her. It makes them feel better about themselves. And the average girls, they don't want to know that you're exceptionally good looking as well as smart and witty. They need something to set them apart, so you let them have that one. Besides, it was nothing you could help anyway.
When she returned to her seat, there was someone sitting in it. He had a hoodie on with the hood up and was holding a cigarette. His back was turned to her, so she boldly tapped his shoulder. He stopped laughing with the bartender, whose name she figured she should get soon, and slowly turned on the stool. When he saw her, her grinned. This was everyone's fantasy while at a bar, what keeps then coming to bars. The hope that an overly attractive stranger will tap them on the shoulder and say something completely mind blowing.
He removed his hood with both hands revealing a a slightly grown out clipper cut underneath and leaned back. One arm on the bar, the other holding his cigarette. The bartender shook his head and patted the man on the shoulder as if to wish him good luck before walking away.
"Do you want to buy me a drink?" The man asked. The tone of his voice implied that he thought himself clever and was proud of it. He had the attitude of someone who knew how attractive he was. And he was very attractive. But she was more so and there was no denying that.
"No, I just need to pay my tab." He narrowed his eyes at her as if he didn't expect her to give up so easily. To be honest, neither did she. The past two months had really done a number on her and she was trying to stray away from everything she had always been.
As she squeezed between his barstool and the next one she could feel his judgement burning two eye shaped holes into the back of her skull. The pretty girl pretending there's more to her than just a great face and a perfect body. Even she had to laugh at it. It was ridiculous.
The bartender waved her off when she tried to pay. Her money wasn't welcome here. She was used to that. She actually figured that. At this point in her life, pulling her wallet out was only a purposeful tactic in courtesy and naivety. She went through the usual tired speech, trying to hand him money regardless, the "oh no, I insist's", the "well, at least let me give you something's", then finally the giving in with a promise not to accept this treatment next time. All complete with a southern accent that was only half a lie.
When she turns to leave, she is facing the man who took her seat. He had turned in his stool so that she was now trapped between his knees. He didn't say anything, just stared as if he were trying to figure her out. She wanted to tell him to give up, quit wasting his time, that there was really nothing else, but these were things she couldn't say. No one likes to hear a pretty girl feel sorry for herself. It was sickening and reserved for scoffing. And scoffing, she fully believed, was a noise to be made only when one was on the verge of vomiting. Plus, the bar music was just too damn loud.
She didn't break the stare contest even when she gently grabbed his ankle from the foot rest of the stool and removed it, clearing a path for herself. With his weight shifted, his other knee fell into her backside pushing her slightly forward to leave his vicinity. He was warm and close enough to breathe in her face, but his breaths were shallow and calculated.
He leaned towards her, eventually reaching past her, to grab his beer from the bar. As he did so, he whispered a very cliche' 'I'll see you around' in her ear. A move that had no doubt worked on countless women before her and will no doubt work on just as many after her. She laughed inwardly because it was just so uninspired and unoriginal. And well, because she was just simply too beautiful to fall for a move so common. She wasn't being arrogant when she thought this, just truthful. He leaned back in his chair with the smirk that just never seemed to disappear.
She thought about how a year ago, she would have take this bait. She would have flirted back, challenged him, and beat him at this game. She would have went home with him, had sex with him, and after he had fallen asleep, snuck out on him. She would have spilled out into the street looking even beautiful as before and had a good laugh. But this wasn't a year ago. This was now and now was different.
She leaned forward and invaded his space, just as he had done moments before. "Dear God, I just hope so." She whispered sarcastically sweet, drawing her 'I' worthy of an 1800's plantation owner. She wriggled her purse free from the chair, tossed it over her shoulder and walked away. She didn't even look back to see his facial expression.
