I suppose I should explain why I believed kismet brought him to the bar that night. I had been divorced for five years at this point. I was bartending at Brixie's and raising my thirteen year old son on my own, my twenty-one year old daughter off studying in Boston. Loneliness was commonplace for me. While I had plenty of friends to spend time with, I was lacking the kind of love that I had envisioned for myself at this age.
About a year before Mr. Handsome walked into my bar, I was drinking at Brixie's one night, after my shift. Our resident witch was bartending—Kayla. I wasn't sure if she really was a witch, but I always referred to her as one, and she seemed to appreciate it. She was young, like Paul—tall, fair, with dark eyes and always clad in dark clothes and makeup. A fit woman, with wide hips, and a mysterious aura to her. She, like all the bartenders I knew, was awkward and pretty. We had just recently decided to spend our free time weight lifting together.
I sipped on a PBR tallboy and Kayla poured a round of shots for us.
We clinked glasses. "To 2020," I said.
"We should write down our fitness goals," she said to me, clearing away our empty glasses.
"Meh," I responded. I was just happy to be leaving the house regularly. I'd become a homebody once I had reached forty. "Can't you just cast a spell?" I quipped, smiling at her.
She sighed, "No, I can't. You can MAKE things happen, but you'll also have to put effort into it. And what you're asking for needs to be reasonable."
I shrugged and laughed. "You'd be surprised of what I can convince myself."
Kayla smirked at me and turned to help a guest. I flipped my front camera open and looked at myself on my phone. Forty felt worse than it looked. I wasn't in great shape, but I had aged surprisingly well. I could definitely pass for thirty. Everything was where it needed to be on me—my cheeks, my boobs, my ass were all still at attention.
I was short, with big boobs, and a big butt—my middle was definitely doughy, and I had zero definition anywhere, but overall I was still doing okay. Being South Asian didn't hurt either—my wrinkles were few and my hair was thick and full. I suspect that this is why I'd been kept on as a bartender well past my prime. I was one of the four older bartenders on staff at Brixie's.
I sipped from my PBR, and scrolled through my iPhone. I popped open the Notes app and started to write a bullet-pointed list.
*Finish grad school and get licensed
*Establish and execute a fitness plan that results in being fit and muscular
*Spend more free time traveling with friends
*Treat and correct personal financial insolvency
*Prepare both kids for my eventual absenceI chewed on my lower lip. These all seemed like reasonable and attainable goals. Traveling sounded fun, but ultimately—I realized, that this was a boring list.
*Meet and convince Henry Cavill to fall in love with me
I chuckled to myself quietly after adding that last point on to my list.
At this time, you, the reader, sees where this is going. You're thinking that Kayla cast a spell and helped me manifest this list of goals. This must have led to Henry wandering into my bar on a random Saturday in January 2021.
That's ridiculous, too, though. How is this bartending witch powerful to the point that she was able to make these things happen? Do you—or I, for that matter—believe in witchcraft, sorcery, or supernatural phenomena?
Is this story really about a middle aged, Oprah's Secret following, Fifty Shades of Grey reading, fad diet having, suburban soccer mom, who summons the powers of the universe to bring her closer to an A list British celebrity? Could this story line be any more vapid?
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Finding You, Looking for Me: A Henry Cavill FanFic
FanfictionSarah is living her humdrum existence when she has a happenstance meeting with a movie star. After a drunken night out, they are inseparable. Everything in her life seems to grow meaning and color--but was this kismet? Or were darker forces at work...