Spark

Chapter 1- Charlie

Status: Unmet

I sat down at the bar nervously, in between a middle-aged man and a woman that looked to be in her early 30's. This was my first time I was left alone at a bar, without any friends or my mom. I had driven myself here, so I wasn't intending to drink that much. I nodded to the bartender and ordered a drink, and a small meal.

As I waited for my order, I put my long, dark brown hair up in a ponytail. I hated when it got into my food and drink. I looked around the bar for anything interesting happening. Some people were playing pool at one of the tables in one corner of the bar. A few others were sitting around a small round table a short distance away, taking shots. Others were playing darts in another corner of the bar. My drink arrived before my meal did. I picked it up and swung around in my spinning chair to continue watching the bar. I misjudged the speed at which I spun though, and I ended up dropping my glass. It crashed onto the floor, spilling the liquid and breaking the glass. 

Even more unluckily, a man was just about to walk behind me, and he stepped right onto the puddle and broken glass. He slipped, falling backwards. He grabbed out wildly for something to catch him, and he ended up grabbing the bottom of my jeans. He yanked me from my seat, pulling me down with him. He landed on his back, clear of the glass, while I wasn't so lucky, landing on my hands and knees, with my left hand landing right on a portion of the broken glass. I yelped and yanked my hand off the floor. It had at least five cuts on it, a couple cuts with glass still in it.

I looked up at the man with a glare, my storm-gray eyes smoldering angrily. Laying on his back, I couldn't see many of his features, but he was wearing dark blue jeans and a button-up shirt with a black and blue pattern on it. He had been wearing a baseball cap before he fell, which was now laying on the floor next to his head. As he lifted his head, looking dazed, I saw that he had tousled, short light brown hair, and his skin was light, with a tan that looked like he spent a lot of time in the sun.

As he looked up, our eyes met, and it seemed like a spark of angry energy clicked in the air between us. His eyes were a dark green color, like a forest floor in shadows. He narrowed his eyes at me, and I glared at him. 

"Hey, if you are too drunk to notice where you are throwing your glass, maybe you shouldn't be here!" The man exclaimed angrily, starting to get up. "You nearly killed me!" 

"I haven't had a sip yet, dipshit!" I shouted at him. I was instantly angry at him for accusing me of such a ridiculous thing. "That was an mistake! I accidently dropped the glass!"

"Well maybe you shouldn't be so clumsy, then!" He was shouting now too.

I held up my cut hand for him to see. "Well, maybe you should watch where you are grabbing! You yanked me out of my chair and right into the glass!"

"If you had never dropped it, this never would have happened!" He stomped off toward the restrooms, and I glared after him for a moment before he disappeared. I turned toward the bartender, who had watched the exchange silently, and held up my hand again.

"Do you have a bandage?" I asked in a regular tone of voice. He nodded and hurried toward the back room. I turned back toward the broken glass on the floor and looked around for a broom to sweep it up. I had broken it, so I should cleaned it up, I thought. Fortunately, a waitress was hurrying towards the mess with a broom and dustpan.

"Do you want me to clean it up?" I asked. "It's my own fault." The waitress shook her head and said it was alright, then cleaned it up and left again. The bartender came back with a bandage in his hand and some disinfectant, but he told me I had better get the remaining glass out and wash it before it was put on. I thanked him and stood, turning towards the restrooms. 

As I was about to enter the woman's restroom, the man who had pulled me out of my chair and caused the whole mess, came out of the men's restroom from across the hall. We glared at each other as I entered but didn't say anything. He disappeared around the corner and I went into the bathroom and straight to the sink. I carefully picked the pieces of glass out of my hand, then washed it.

I went back to the bartender and bandaged my hand. I sat down again, waiting for my meal to arrive. As I ate, I looked around for the man-now my worst enemy- and saw that he must have left, for he was nowhere in the bar. I shrugged, happy that I wouldn't have to see him again. When I was finished I paid, then got up and left. I drove home hoping that the next day would be better, and I would receive good news.