Are We Meant to Be?

Chapter 1

~Miranda's POV~

It had been a long week. Working 9 to 9 at the fast food joint down the street every day just to make enough to barely afford the old rundown apartment I lived in. I was sitting in the bar. A great place for me to wash my worries away in slick movements of alcohol down my throat. I wasn't drunk yet, but I felt so miserable that I wished I was just so I couldn't feel anything. My husband of 6 months left me. I never had any kids. I was just a loner.

I was sitting there, swirling the hardcore alcohol in my glass just thinking, when suddenly, 2 guys walk in the bar. They're new. I hadn't seen them before and I was at the bar every night. One was fairly tall with short light brown hair. He was wearing a leather jacket and had an overall tough guy look to him. Behind him stood the much cuter of the two. He had darker and longer hair than the other, and was a few inches taller. The shorter one walked over to me.

"Hey, I'm Dean. How bout you and I go have a little fun?"

"How bout you get lost?" I snapped.

"Come on, don't be like that. Don't you want a piece of this?" I decided to be obnoxious while getting my point across. I playfully waved at the man he came in with who was awkwardly standing by the door unsure what to do. Dean turned around to see the other man. The tall one began to blush slightly. Dean got up and headed back to the other guy. He spoke quietly to him. Suddenly, the taller one walks over to me. He sits and orders a beer.

"Hi. I'm Miranda." I said

"I'm Sam. My brother over there can be an idiot. Sorry about him."

"Why do I always get hit on by guys I never like?" I said and gave him my best attempt at a flirty smile. "I'd much rather be talking to you than him. You're cute." Sam's face flushed and he blushed in the brightest red I've seen in a person's face.

"Thanks. You're cute yourself." Now I thought I was blushing. "So why are you drowning yourself in alcohol?" He asked gently

"It's been a long week. It's a long story."

"I'm sorry." He said, trying to be compassionate. He had a look in his eyes of consolation but also one of desire. He looked at me the way every girl wants to be looked at by a guy they like.

"What about you? Why are you here?" I asked.

"We work for the FBI, so we are here about the deaths on the edge of town. We're staying here for a week or so." We spent the next hour just talking about whatever popped into our heads. It was great to talk to someone who seemed to care so much.

"Sam," I started, "Not to rush things, but can I have your number? If anything, I could use someone to talk to sometimes." He looked deep into my eyes as if they held the key to the world.

"Sure." He said, almost not sure it was a good idea. He wrote it down on the napkin and I wrote mine down for him on a piece of paper.

"I'm sure I'm just some crazy chick to you, but would you go out with me sometime?"

"I'm sorry Miranda, you're a nice girl, but no."

"Why not Sam?" I asked as the tears welled up in my eyes.

"I'm not ready for a relationship right now. I'm sorry."

"Oh. It's ok. I get it." There was an awkward silence.

"Well, Dean and I have to go. It was nice meeting you. If you need someone to talk to, you can still call me."

"Thanks." I said sadly and he walked out the door.