Shortness of Breath

Chapter Twenty Two

Hallie - March thirteenth, 2006

"I don't want to stay long," I said defeatedly, taking a seat at the far end of the bar. "And don't let me have more than a couple drinks. I have to be productive tomorrow, I have my organic chemistry midterm on Monday--"

"Hallie, for Christ's sake, you're depressing me," Jada complained as she flagged down a bartender. "Can you stop being a pole-up-your-ass loser nerd for two hours?"

"You have two hours on the clock starting now."

"You haven't gotten laid in months, Hallie. I didn't drag you out to a gay bar for my own health."

"I didn't ask you to," I reminded her grimly.

"You're bitter when you haven't had sex, and I'm getting sick of your attitude. So no, you didn't directly ask, but you've left me no other choice."

"Hey, skinny bitch," someone said from close behind me. "You're in my seat."

I turned to look, but didn't say anything, not even sure it was me being addressed.

"Yes, you, the pale pile of bones on the far right."

"Oh," I said, immediately going to stand for her as though she were royalty, honestly just intimidated by her forwardness, her beauty, and her apparent anger. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay," she said, completely changing tone, somehow sliding into the chair I'd just been sitting in and pulling me by the waist onto her lap, sideways. "We can share."

I didn't say anything, mostly because I was in shock. It wasn't often that I was hit on by women, let alone so boldly. I never spent time in bars like these, and usually my only suitors were straight men, none of whom had game like this. Jada opened her mouth wide in surprise and approval, before giving an emphatic thumbs up and turning a hundred and eighty degrees in her chair, to talk to whomever was on her left and leave this stranger and me alone.

"Well," I said quietly, all of a sudden short of breath and not knowing what to say. "That's a creative solution to the chair deficit."

She smiled in amusement. "You're cute."

"Cute?"

"In a high-strung, nervous kind of way," she mulled, getting a better look at my face. "Like a chihuahua, almost."

"Who said  I was nervous?"

"You're shaking."

"I'm not--"

She placed one of her hands just lightly under my fingertips then, so I could properly eat my words. "What was that?"

I had no response except to try to be more brave. Suddenly, I didn't want this woman I didn't know to think I was so weak and timid that she was wasting her time. "So what's your name?"

"Guess."

"Why would I guess?" I thought out loud. "Do you know how many names there are in the world?"

"Around five thousand first names are in common use in the United States," she answered. "But mine is only fairly common, with around fifteen hundred alive right now. I've looked into it."

"Of course you have," I said.

She relented. "Sylvana."

Of course her name was Sylvana. I never seemed to just meet a Karen. "Hallie," I responded.

"Catwoman," she said.

"I thought I was a dog," I said. "Also, you should know it's with an 'ie'. Not just the 'e'."