𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐍 , mike schmidt

01. home

Coming home after living in New York City for five years felt way more humiliating than it should've. I had always told my friends back home that I was going to make it out of Hurricane and stay out. Now I was the girl who made it out for a few years, but had to come back home because my career flopped. 

Once my dad and I finally arrived home after our a few day roadtrip, we were greeted by my mom standing on the front porch with a widespread grin across her face.

I had grown up well off, especially being from Hurricane. Most of the people that lived in Hurricane were blue collar workers and lived in standard 2 bedroom homes - nothing too fancy. 

My parents, however, managed to do quite well with their wine store business, Siena. My dad was 100% Italian and was even born there - but then moved when he was 2. His favorite thing to tell customers was he was born in Italy, which only made people keep coming back thinking he was a truly authentic Italian that moved to Hurricane to share his wine knowledge. He was truly Italian,  but he was the most Americanized one you'll ever meet. My grandparents were the ones who were truly Italian in every category - even giving him the idea to create the wine store.

"Oh, Miles. I'm so happy you're home. " My mom cooed, giving me a giant hug as she squeezed me. 

"Missed you too." I respond, hugging my mom back as I watched my dad start carrying in my boxes.

-

After some unpacking and a heavy Italian meal, my parents had spent the next two hours explaining what I need to know about running the wine store over a bottle of Italian wine. Their plan was to go spend time in Italy with my grandparents and then find their way across Europe for a few months - so I was going to be in complete charge of the store, among the other two employees. 

"You think you can manage?" My dad asked, taking a sip from his glass.

I nodded. "I could manage events in Manhattan, I think I can manage a wine store in Hurricane." I respond with a light laugh as my parents both let out a chuckle. 

-

"I can't believe you're finally home!" yelled my best friend over the phone.

"Neither can I. At this time on a Saturday in New York City, I'd be hitting up the East Village for my weekly bar escapade. " I responded, as a faint sigh escaped my lips.

"Well, its not New York - but there are a few bars that have been popping recently here. Let's go out and I'll show you!" exclaimed Aly.

Aly had been my best friend since elementary school. She was the one thing I loved about Hurricane. I had always wished she'd make it out, but she never did and didn't want to. She wasn't like any of my friends from New York, she was a real friend who had known me from before my city girl days. She was practically a sister to me, supporting me through every phase of my life.

"Alyyyy, I can't imagine any bars here "popping"..but I'm never going to say no to some tequila with you."

A loud cheer was heard over the phone. "Perfect! I'll come over to yours in about an hour and we'll uber to the bars."

Hurricane had ubers?

-

An hour had passed rather quickly as I saw my best friend popping into my bedroom after being let in by my parents.

"Miles!" she yelled, immediately greeting me with a hug.

"I missed you!" I said, admiring the tall brunette as she plopped herself on my familiar bed. Most of my fond memories in my bedroom had been with Aly as we were getting ourselves ready for dances or parties during high school.

After 30 minutes of conversation and my make-up routine finally coming to a close, I threw on my most non New York going out  fit. I didn't want to stand out too much, but by the look on Aly's face - I was.

"Girl, you're going to be the most posh thing to ever walk into these bars." she laughed, having me do a twirl. I let out a laugh and shrugged. "It's just who I am, I guess." I teased. 

-

After the uber dropped us off, my eyes scanned the bar in front of us. It had a giant red scene that read "Harry's".

Aly grabbed my hand and lead me inside. I was immediately met with the smell of cigarettes, which didn't bother me considering I was in New York for five years. My eyes wandered around the bar trying to look at the different faces. It was definitely a bustling bar for Hurricane - but nothing compared to what I was used to.

Soon, Aly's motive for coming out was revealed to me when I saw her make a dash to a guy sitting at the bar. She motioned me over as I made my way and smiled at him. 

Two tequila sodas and thirty minutes of small talk later, I was sitting at the bar by myself as Aly was whisked away to play darts with her male friend. I wasn't drunk, but I wasn't completely sober either. 

While doing my routine scan of the bar, my eyes ended up landing on a male at the opposite side of the bar with a whiskey glass planted in front of him. He looked beyond exhausted and had a look of stress on his face. I studied him for a few minutes as I watched him sip on his whiskey and glance around the bar. Before I knew it, our eyes had met and I quickly darted mine away. People watching had always been a skill for me because I never got caught, but this time I was. 

I quickly looked back up at him to see if he was still staring at me and he wasn't. He was gone. My eyes scanned the bar again, looking for the exhausted and stressed male in the denim jacket. It had been awhile since I wondered over a male's movements. Before I knew it, I turned my body to look for Aly and by doing that, my arm had swung and knocked my tequila soda glass off the bar.

My eyes widened as I realized what I had done. As embarrassing as it was, no one seemed to notice considering how loud the music was. Actually I was wrong, the exhausted and stressed male in the denim jacket noticed.