And the waitress is practicing politics
As the businessmen slowly get stoned
Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness
But it's better than drinkin' alone
***
She didn't return the next night.
Ashton thought it would only take a day for her to finish their duet, but Scarlett was diving into it with her whole heart. He admired her passion, but who knew when she would be back. He needed her back soon.
In the back of his mind, it wasn't the song delaying her reappearance, but something he had done. Ashton had gotten too comfortable around her and she didn't like it. Meeting new people wasn't her thing. He had tried to kiss her. The drunk night they had shared was a mistake. It could have been any of those ideas, really.
Or it could be that she was testing him, keeping him on a leash to see if he'll pull or stay by her side. He had only spent a few nights with her, nowhere near to being her closest companion who knew all her stories and all her reasons. She was still - mostly - a mystery.
Ashton didn't care, she was exciting.
And the night was bland, a quiet scene played out in a New York setting. Waitresses slogged around the tables, unflinching when banging a hip against a wooden edge or dropping a glass. Their lips moved, but the words that came out were useless and ignored - some talk about a mayor that no one could care for. Ashton caught sight of an engagement ring adorning one woman's hand, but upon looking into her face he saw there was no enchanted glow hiding underneath. The men she served were so far gone that Ashton was surprised they managed to burp syllables out. They all possessed the same distant, disconnected gaze and each had a table to themselves.
Ashton decided he couldn't judge them. He didn't have a companion either. He was just the boy sitting by the piano, playing a melancholy tune that took a bit of weight off their shoulders. Maybe he should get out of the bar.
a/n: this is short. i'm feeling it. hey if you're reading that's fan-freaking-tastic. love, love, love.
