Melanie pretended to take another sip from her drink. Would this guy never get the hint that she wasn't interested?
He'd shown up about twenty minutes ago when she was sitting at the bar waiting to be served. If she'd said a dozen words to the guy, she'd be surprised. He was about her age, attractive enough, with a shock of unkempt brown hair, wearing a smart shirt and clearly muscular underneath. Exactly the kind of guy she'd chat to for a bit and head home with after, but the second he'd opened his mouth, a deluge of the most boring drivel had come out of his mouth. He'd been monologuing about himself all night, and he was so dull, she could feel her pleasant buzz being driven away.
"So there I was, surrounded by total strangers-"
She counted the different varieties of whiskey behind the bar again. Still fourteen. Telling him to fuck off wasn't something she dared do, considering she was alone here tonight.
Becky's going to pay for bailing on me, she thought to herself.
The asshole next to her had gone through several beers and was starting to slur a little as he told another inane story. He was standing a little too close, and she could smell the beer on his breath.
"Oh my god, Nora? Is that you?"
She felt a hand on her arm and turned to look. He was about 15 years younger than she was, barely old enough to be in the bar in the first place. His light blond hair was long for a guy, tied back in a short ponytail. He was clean-shaven, and had the most piercing blue eyes she'd ever seen.
They locked eyes for a second, and his flicked back and forth to Mister Drivel for an almost imperceptible moment.
"Michael? From Mr. Whitman's painting class."
"Michael, of course! How good to see you again!"
He looked at her tormentor. "You don't mind if I borrow her for a bit, right? We haven't seen each other in years, I'd love to catch up."
He sat down next to her, and leaned in close. "Are you ok?"
She gave him a thumbs up, shielded by her body, and mouthed "Please stay".
"Hey man, I was talking to the lady."
"I'm sorry man, I'd like to catch up with my friend though. Buy you a beer?"
"I don't want no stinkin' beer."
Mel froze as Michael stepped away from the bar, so she wasn't between him and the asshole.
"I don't think they serve stinking beer here, but I do know a great place down the street where they do. Let me point it out to you, come on."
"What?"
"Stinking beer? It's amazing, you gotta try it, man. It's a couple blocks down the street. Goes well with bloody cheese too, especially on Thursdays, though today is Saturday... man, you gotta stay away from there on the Full Moon though." His eyes went wide as he said "full moon", and he put extra emphasis on the words. "I heard Jimmy from down the way went there when the moon was almost full, but it was a leap year see, and he woke up as a sausage sandwich the following morning!"
"What the fuck is your problem, man. Screw this, she's boring anyway," he said, stumbling off.
Michael sat back down next to her and flagged down the bartender.
"I could see your soul leaving your body from across the room, and couldn't stand it anymore."
She wondered if she might've just traded boring for something worse.
