ships passing in the night

Chapter 1: Market Sizing

"There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment." 

- Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

                It was an ordinary night. Low beats hung in the air, soothed together by a breathy falsetto that loosely sung a melody. People swayed listlessly, Gin-and-Tonic in hand, shuffling from seat to seat, table to table, lover to lover, soaking in the boozy atmosphere. Everything was out of place, but in place, falling into the rhythm of the tired Friday night.

"Here you go," Kellan said calmly, sliding a Mojito to a scantily clad woman on the other side of the bar counter. She blushed, touching his fingers flirtatiously as she took her drink from him. Kellan reciprocated with a small smile, maybe later.

It was an ordinary night. Lazy music, tipsy bodies, an overly eager prospect, girl being hit on by some horny guy at 3 o'clock–

Kellan paused, turning back to the right. A young woman sat at the end of the counter. A man in with greasy, slicked back hair leaned towards her, whispering inaudibly in her ears as he placed a stubby hand on her thigh. She raised her eyebrows, distinctly uncomfortable. Kellan sighed. He'd seen this song and dance before. Bars usually didn't bother, but his wasn't that kind of establishment. He silently moved over towards them, ready to slowly but surely piss off a thirsty drunkard.

The woman's eyes shifted to Kellan. Then, eyes as firm as steel but calm as still water, she leaned towards the man, whispering something else in his ears. He flinched, turning to look at Kellan, his eyes widening and pupils dilating. He immediately backed off, seemingly unsettled, giving Kellan guilty looks as he went away, moving on to a different, less resistant target.

Confused, but also relieved that he didn't have to start a definitely unfavorable altercation, Kellan approached the woman. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked.

Startled and oddly, slightly guilty, she looked back at him. "I'm fine, thank you," she replied, voice soft and mellow.

There wasn't anything especially eye-catching about her. She had a small frame, a clear complexion, and dark curls scooped into a low ponytail. Dressed in a light, pastel colored blouse and a well-fitted pencil skirt, Kellan could tell she came straight from the office. She was emblematic of an ordinary office worker, yet Kellan couldn't take his eyes off her. Her dark, piercing eyes seemed to search his for something he didn't even know he was hiding. It was a chase, a wordless back-and-forth, blurring the babbles of the bar into the background.

Emitting a soft chuckle, he placed a clear glass on the counter, clinked in a few ice cubes and poured her a shot of his best whiskey.

"You don't look fine," he smiled amusedly. "On the house."

Her brows met in the middle. "I'm fine, really."

Stubborn. She probably thought that he was making a move on her, just like the slimeball had been. But, Kellan wasn't that kind of guy. "Then, for a good save," Kellan replied, as if to say: I'm not trying anything.

Eyes softening as she met Kellan's harmless gaze, she shrugged and took the drink in her hands. "You know," she said as she sipped, "if you give a free drink to every girl who gets hit on, this bar's owner is going to lose a lot of money."