Strangers in the Storm ✔

Chapter 8: Another Round

DAMIEN

Bad Habit was a bar downtown where Damien would probably never go if it weren't for the frustration building within his gut since noon. He thought the name was apt, too, considering all he ever did was return to his bad habits.

Irish drinking songs assaulted his eardrums once he walked into the dimly lit, wood-covered bar. The songs went well with the interior; the leather booths, lacquered oak tables and drunks slouching over the backrests, discussing passionately about something.

Damien noticed the girl behind the counter; dancing rhythmically to the songs while she cleaned the glasses, dressed in a tight black t-shirt with a black apron over it, her red hair tied in a tight ponytail on the top of her head.

Roxanne didn't see him immediately, her doe-like eyes were focused on the dirty glasses in front of her. She was the only waitress in the small bar and Damien wondered whether he should have waited till the end of her shift to barge in.

When he closed the door behind him, the girl finally lifted her gaze and her smile faltered. Damien's gut clenched as he approached the counter. Roxanne put the glasses down and leaned against the counter, her lower lip ending between her teeth.

She was still just as gorgeous as she was last night, perhaps even more now that she wore no makeup. There were no signs of hangover on her clear, smooth face. Damien envied her just a bit because he felt like a wet rag the entire day.

"To what do I owe this displeasure?" She asked.

Nervousness and shame shone in her eyes, making Damien feel bad. His mother was right, he behaved like a complete jerk, but she caught him by surprise. The girls he spent his time with never overstayed their welcome.

"I came to apologize." Damien said and glanced at the wooden barstool, silently asking if he could sit down.

Roxanne nodded curtly, "Do you want something to drink?"

Damien realised she only asked because she worked here but he smiled anyway, "Whiskey, please."

Roxanne puffed out loud, not bothering to hide her discontent, and turned around to fetch the whiskey from the shelf, which Damien recognised as the most expensive the bar had. He snickered, more entertained than annoyed.

The girl's lips tightened as she poured the glass and Damien observed her expression. Her cheeks were a little flushed, her breaths short and quick and a wayward strand of hair escaped from her ponytail and tickled the side of her face. The way she tucked it behind her ear made Damien regret kicking her out of his apartment. Such a small gesture, he thought, yet it made him want to repeat last night.

Roxanne put the glass in front of him, "Enjoy your drink, Mr. Douglas."

Damien tried not to cringe at the name, he deserved it anyway.

"I'm sorry, papillon." He caught her gaze. "I'm an idiot."

"Yes, well, self-awareness doesn't absolve you." Roxanne avoided his eyes and looked around, probably checking if someone wanted something to drink, before she sat on the stool behind the bar.

"I'm still sorry." Damien shrugged.

"How did you find me?" She asked.

Damien took a sip, "Your friend Brenda mentioned the name of the bar to Andre."

"Ha!" Roxanne poured herself a glass of water. "And here I thought they weren't using their tongues for talking last night."

Damien chuckled, "He talked to her this morning."