authors note: this chapter contains content that may be upsetting for some readers. i will put a TLDR in the beginning of next chapter for anyone who wants to skip this one :D please see TW below.
TW: attempted SA/R and drug use
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POV: Maya
Well, that was a disaster.
Leave it to me to run face-first into a creepy white man five minutes into the night.
My eye catches on a cluster of people at the back corner of the room, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Just what I need: a bar.
Surely a little liquid courage will calm my nerves if nothing else. Plus, it'll give me something to do.
I make my way over and try to take up as little space as possible while I wait in line. Unfortunately, it looks like all the drink options are things I've never heard of. What the hell is a Negroni Sbagliato?
Given the way things are going, it's probably something I can't afford. When it's my turn to order, I try to keep my voice calm and steady to not betray my nerves.
"Could I have one Natty Ice, please?"
I know it's not the fanciest option, but as a struggling grad student I'm starved enough for money as it is. I'm not about to go spending fifteen dollars on one drink. At least, that was my plan.
The barman wrinkles his nose at my request. A sly grin appears on his lips, and he visibly sneers.
Immediately I realize I've made a mistake.
"We don't serve that sort of thing here," a voice booms, startling me so much that I almost trip on my dress in my attempt to turn around.
I find myself staring straight up into the eyes of a silver-haired, heavyset white man. He looks to be mid sixties or seventies, but it's hard to know exactly.
My surprise, or maybe fear, must be written on my face, because he smiles reassuringly before resting a thick hand on my shoulder. His touch is warm, but as his fingers brush over my bare skin a chill dances down my spine.
Gross.
"Uhh," I stammer, not wanting to offend him.
He looks back to the barman, but still doesn't release me. With no other option, I'm forced to stand there as he rectifies the situation.
"Two vodka tonics, for me and the lady" he orders.
I start to protest, but when he doesn't pull out his wallet I realize the drinks must be included in tonight's banquet.
In other words, I ordered the cheapest beer possible for no reason at all. I should have just ordered the damn Nagini thing.
The barman fixes our drinks without a word. It's only once they've been prepared that the older gentleman releases me. He lifts both drinks and nods his head sideways for me to follow.
I don't have anything better to do. And he did help me out back there. Sharing a drink with him won't hurt. Besides, he reminds me of my grandfather. Maybe he's here alone too and just wants some company?
"Thank you," I say, once we're out of the bartender's earshot, "For helping me back there."
"Of course, my dear. Happy to do it."
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