In which Jack O'Callahan's expert bartending introduces him to a very special someone
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Jack Daniel's and Jack O'Callahan's
Jack met a lot of interesting people bartending. His college job at The Dugout handed him the opportunity to engage in lively conversation with Doug Crockett and the sort. His natural inclination to exchange words and exude a genuine interest in people brought many of them to the stools across his bar-top.
It also brought Y/n to him.
A neuroscience major, she doesn't have much time to get out. Between her upper level classes, study groups, and overwhelming extracurriculars, she doesn't frequent bars. It also doesn't work in her favor that she's never had a thing for bars or the people that exist there. Not to mention, she'd seen the devastating effects of alcoholism play out in the lives of those she loves and she wants to stay far away.
Prior to attending Boston University, she was pretty set on neuroscience. The brain had always fascinated her and she knew better than to harm it, but that didn't stop her from galavanting out with her friends every once in a blue moon. When they twisted her arm, blindfolded her, and placed her in the car against her will and better judgment.
Thus, she'd sit awkwardly at the bar, stiff and very clearly uncomfortable. Her head would swivel from side to side as she surveyed the atmosphere around her. She never seemed keen on drinking anything or answering any of Jack's onslaught of questions. But the bartender was taken with her from the second she was dragged inside so he just kept talking - as he had a natural affinity to do.
Much to his inward dismay, Jack's flirty nature didn't come in handy when it came to her. It was as if she was immune to his usual charm, but that didn't stop him from trying. He would lean against the bar top on one elbow, polishing a glass, flashing that toothless grin of his and she would sit unfazed. At least in the dim lighting he couldn't see her cheeks flushing.
She would politely respond to his questions with as much information as she deemed fit. Only returning the question to him out of an obligation to the social constructs of conversation. Or so...that's how it seemed.
She knew, on the other hand, she was only playing hard to get. At first it was because she never saw herself with the likes of him. Preconceived notions clouded her judgment until she got to know him - and he had a lot to say to ensure that occurred.
Unlike her he wasn't afraid of over sharing. He always had placed pride in being a good judge of character. He knew exactly who he was talking to and what she'd do with the information he shared. He knew her type. Instead of flirting, he gave her facts. The facts of his life - just like she was used to getting - and every so often he'd let that natural charm show through with a perfectly crafted compliment.
With this way of communicating, she got to know him, and he got to woo her. She came to find out that he was much more than she had previously assumed. Every visit left her with a small nugget to tuck away and fawn over later. He was, all in all, a giant - hockey playing - nerd. He'd gotten into Harvard, but wanted to play hockey. He made the next logical decision and turned down an Ivy League for BU. He's an American History major and took trips around Boston just to geek out around the historic sights- in more or less words.
