Desires

Stranger At a Bar (1)

I checked my phone for what felt like for the seventeenth time in five minutes.

Nothing.

As I sat at the very end of the bar, visibly by myself I twirled the stem of my wine glass between my fingers.

Karan and I have been planning this date for a few days now, and now I can't believe not only is he not here, but he's ignoring me as well.

We've been going through an extremely difficult patch, or more than a patch, for several weeks now.

Karan and I got into a disagreement, which quickly turned into a screaming match. A small argument that could've been sorted out within a few minutes if it were in the right mindset.

I don't want to think about the nitty-gritty details right now, but both of us ended up saying some not-so-nice words to each other, which ended up in us agreeing to take a break from each other and possibly seeing other people.

So that's why I'm here, alone at the bar, instead of us being together. I swallowed my ego and texted him this morning to remind him of the date that we had planned, but there was no response.

That ego ended up coming back with vengeance, and several hours later I texted him again but said that if he doesn't show up, then I'll go through with our plan of seeing different people, and now here I am alone... I wasn't really planning on going through with it, but after seeing that he left me on read, I completely lost it.

If he couldn't bother texting me back, then I don't owe him anything either.

As I was starting to get lost in my misery, a noisy group entered, grabbing my attention.

It looked like they had booked a couple of sofas and were sorting themselves out while one man checked drink requests.

He separated himself from the rest of the group and stood next to me at the bar, throwing me an easy smile.

He placed the order and then noticed me looking at my phone.

"Someone running late?" he asked.

"Or not running at all. How late is too late?"

"How late is he?"

"One hour."

He winced. "And no text?"

I shook my head.

"He's a fucking idiot then."

I laughed.

One of the girls came up and started taking drinks back to the table.

I got a better look at him as he handed them to her. Around six feet tall, not very thin, but toned.

He had a beautifully maintained beard and messy hair that just curled around his neck.

Extremely attractive.

He turned back to the bar, pushing up the sleeves of his top over his biceps, a gesture that looked more out of habit than vanity, although it did help to emphasize the muscles. The top four buttons of his shirt open, giving a glimpse of his chest.

"Here, let me get you a drink."

"Oh great, a sympathy drink from the sweet stranger," but I said it with a smile.

"I like that, sweet, stranger. What are you drinking?"

"Chardonnay, please," I said as the bartender poured the last Bourbon for him.

"Small or large?" The bartender asked.

"She'll have a large."

"Oh? "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"It's just to make the pain go away."

"Of being stood up? Well damn, thanks." I remarked sarcastically with a giggle.

He chuckled and then clinked his glass with mine and we exchanged names...

"Are you celebrating something?" I asked, gesturing towards the rest of the group.

"The end of a music video shoot."

"So, is this the wrap party?"

"Well, that's probably a bit of an exaggeration. Just a few drinks before we decide to get something to eat... eventually... if it's not too late."

"Actor then?" I asked.

"No, I was directing. Those guys over there were in front of the camera, and the girl on the end was singing."

I waved and mouthed an embarrassed "Hi" as they saw me looking at them. They returned the wave with a smile.

"So, you're the one in charge?"

"Technically speaking yes. But, I couldn't get them to do anything. They'll have to fix it in the editing process. So, what brings you here?"

"Apart from getting stood up, you mean? Ah, it was supposed to be a date with my boyfriend, but we sort of decided that we were going on break last night and well he..."

"I told you. Fucking idiot."

"That's the worst Punjabi accent I've ever heard."

"But I am Punjabi!" he protested, pouting.

"That's what makes it even worse." I said while giggling.

It was getting busy at the bar, and we were pushed closer together by the people waiting.

It was also noisier, so we were having to talk almost directly into each other's ear.

His breath was warm on my cheek, gently tinged with Bourbon, with an underlying hint of musk, aromatic cologne as he leaned his hand on my shoulder as we talked.

He was entertaining, making me giggle while remaining attentive to what I was saying, and I was loving talking with him.

It was difficult to meet his eye, as the contact was so intense that it was almost burning.

I hope he didn't think I was trying to avoid it.

But as he was once again pushed against me and his hand slid across my shoulder to keep his balance, looking up at him, I couldn't look away.

He ran his tongue across the underneath of his top lip.

It was a very sensuous gesture, leaving his lip glistening and very kissable.

My lips parted involuntarily, and I angled my face up towards him.

It had the desired effect as suddenly our lips were about to touch...

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Just wanted to trying something new, don't hate me and just trust the process!