Today's been a long day. Work has been incredibly overwhelming and demanding since it's the day after Halloween, making people be total dumbasses and making the E.R overcrowded with hangovers and broken limbs. You feel like it's your fault for choosing nursing out of all things you could possibly do with your life, but ever since you were a kid you've wanted to help people. In fact, you almost craved it and that incessant need to be useful still hasn't been satisfied. It has subsided, yes, but it's still there bothering you like flies on top of trash.
You feel lucky you got out at 8 p.m. but you didn't want to head home just yet. That ended up taking you to this grungy, almost empty pub on a Monday night. The atmosphere is exactly what you wanted as it isn't crowded at all and the quiet chatter of the people behind and beside you stay in the background as you focus your hearing on the soft rock tunes playing on the speakers of this place. A half full glass of gin and tonic sits comfortably in your hand as you're seated on the left side of the bar. This is your third one and you should probably stop but you can't help craving the feeling of how the drink slowly rasps the inside of your throat and warms your insides like a hot, spoonful of oatmeal on a cold autumn morning.
A weird energy gets closer to where you're seated, making your guts clench and that part of your brain that tells you 'danger' becomes more alert than it usually is despite the alcohol in your system. You look to your right and a man is seated right beside you, looking over his shoulder as a creepy smile slowly appears on his lips. You don't react, keeping the same straight face you do when an older man flirts with you as you're inserting a needle into their skin to get an IV started. You can't help your face, constantly dealing with these type of men prepared you to not be surprised of what they say or do. You turn your face away as you try really hard not to roll your eyes, making one of your eyelids twitch. He doesn't get the memo, so he leans closer to your shoulder and you can smell the foul odor coming from his skin and mouth.
"Hey, pretty lady." The putrid smell coming from his breath makes you internally gag and you just want to punch this dude's face for even having the thought of coming up to you. You sigh deeply, your free night being totally ruined and now you can't wait to go home. Your discomfort is noticeable when the bartender makes eye contact with you as you quickly down your drink in one swig, but he doesn't do anything about it. Like they always do. You pick up your purse on your lap and place the strap over your shoulder, having all the intention to leave but this man that smells like a rotten can of tuna has other plans for you. He gets up on his feet at the same time you do and you're already thinking of kicking his ass when the time comes. He smells like he's wasted so you won't really have a problem with knocking him out.
You continue your walk to exit the pub but as you're reaching for the door, you feel a hand sliding on your lower back and in a quick movement you turn around and swing your elbow to the side of his face. He leans forward as he holds his cheek and he was too fast for you to quickly react to what he was doing when he grabs your shoulders and throws you to the wall beside the doors. You hear the bartender yell at this man and it feels like eternity before someone does something. Before you know it, the dude is getting pulled by the back of his neck and held down next to you with his face pressed on the same wall. You scurry off of the wall and turn around to look at the man holding down this musty dude. You take in what he's wearing, black leather jacket, black jeans and black combat boots. You get lost on his outfit and you didn’t notice that he was already looking at you, making you blush embarrassingly.
"You okay?" His worried expression combined with the angry, tight hold he has on the man makes you feel hot suddenly, your blood rushing hurriedly through your veins and down to your center. You nod with your lips parted as you're still catching your breath and just now starting to come down from the adrenaline rush the assault gave you. Now you've got to deal with the unexpected attraction to this dirty blond haired man is making you feel. His cheek indents into a dimple when his lips quirk up a smile 'cause he maybe noticed you checking him out.
"Thanks." You managed to stutter out before pulling your phone out and dialing 911. You don't want to do this because you know how the police is like with these types of situations but you still need to report this problem before anyone else falls victim to this oxygen waste of a man. The guy that you still don't know the name of is still holding him steady against the wall and you swear he passed out, probably from the intoxication inside his body.
You're looking as the musty waste of oxygen is being put in the backseat of a cruiser. You already gave your statements and the no-name man gave his witness statements as well. The police talked to the bartender before they left, too. You turn your head to the right when you feel no-name's gaze as he's seated on one of the chairs of a round table. Your once crossed arms lower to your sides as your feet take you to where he is. Your body slumps down on the chair in front of his, sitting side by side and looking in the same direction as him. He turns his head to the left before you do the same, giving him an expectant look. You don't feel uncomfortable but rather curious as to why he's looking at you that much. You feel a pulsing sensation between your legs while his green eyes maintain contact with yours. You don't understand why you feel very attracted to him but maybe the way he helped you makes your stomach tingle and your arousal increase.
"Ash." He extends his right hand as his cheeks indent and a full smile forms on his face.
