"Would you please just sit down?" The sound of crashing glass sounded throughout the pub, and Vanessa sighed. Her date, a term she uses lightly, laughed drunkenly at the shards glimmering in the dim lighting of the restaurant. She tried to ignore the stares she got from other guests, but it was hard to when Jonny kept cackling. "Okay, you know what? I'm done with this," she grumbled.
His hands wrapped around her wrists as she tried to leave. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he slurred, "Don'chya wanna stay with me tonight?" She felt disgust bubble up inside her, as well as fear. His eyes showed no remorse, and he towered over her short stature.
"Hey buddy." She whipped around, tufts of brown hair slapping Jonny in his open mouth. The bartender looked at them boredly, as if he dealt with this for a living. Looking around, Vanessa realised he probably did. "Let her go before you get bounced."
"Watch your tongue, pretty boy." Jonny grinned stupidly. "Sweet cheeks over here is out with me. She likes this," he purred, as if that was in any way sexy. Smiling sweetly, she nodded. Jonny smiled triumphantly. Just as he was about to brag, a swift elbow to his solar plexus. He doubled over, and Vanessa brought her knee up to meet his face.
"Sorry sweet cheeks. I am so not interested." She started walking away, until the sound of deep laughter made her stop. She turned to see the same bartender laughing loudly. Wiping his eyes, he just gave her a thumbs up. Smiling to herself, she walked out with her head held high.
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Somehow, Vanessa found herself in the same spot the next Friday. Her hair shielded her face from interested eyes, her own blue irises staring intently at the menu. She couldn't decide between a pasta dish, or sticking with the house salad. Her diet hadn't been going that well - it hadn't even started - so she was starting to feel guilty.
"Well, if it isn't Rambo." Her head flew up, taking in a pair of green eyes that held the same cheeriness as the knowing smirk that decorated his face. She wanted to poke his dimples, just to see if they were real.
Snapping out of her day dream, she rolled her eyes. "I prefer Ronda Rousey." He just flashed his teeth again.
"So what can I get you, Ronda?" She tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach by muttering her order. She caved and got the pasta. "That's my favourite." He wrote it down and, with a wink, walked back to the kitchen.
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Coming to Sorella's became a habit for Vanessa. Whether it was for lunch, drinks, or just meetings, she seemed to find herself there. So much so that she had her own chair.
It wasn't really hers, but Harry had mentioned that she always sat there so it might as well have been hers. She blushed at the thought of the bartender. He always tried to flirt with her, which was nice. Even though he insisted on calling her Ronda. She had given him her name, and yet...
She smiled at the hostess who greeted her once more. She just made her way to the bar as usual. Her seat had almost moulded to the way her body sat, and she relaxed instantly while waiting for Harry to take her order. His pasta dish had become her new favourite meal; even though she had to go on morning runs to keep off the extra weight, it was worth the gleam in his eyes every time she ordered. And maybe Vanessa ordered dessert every now and then, but when Harry eggs her she can't say no.
Even though she always shuts down his flirting.
She waited for maybe five minutes before getting impatient. She had skipped lunch so she could order his chocolate lava cake, and she was looking forward to it. Another few minutes passed and Harry still hadn't made his grand appearance. She hopped out of her seat, peering around the corner into the kitchen. She saw no traces of her bartender.
