D E S I D E R A T A [ g.d ] ON HOLD

01

Beats of the music thumped out throughout the bar. She wasn't sure what kind of song was playing. Actually, she didn't care about the music or about the artist of the catchy song that made her hips sway and her body twirl in rhythm.

Her hands held the corners of her skirt, keeping the light fabric in place and avoiding showing more of her skin than needed. Stray strands of her brown hair framed her face as her long fringe covered her forehead.

She was dancing her sorrow away.

Tonight she didn't care anymore about her life. Or at least that was something she believed in and reassuring herself that she is fine became a routine. She needed to be brave, strong and not let anyone see her bends, even if her heart was shattering into pieces inside her chest.

Tonight she was another person, another carfree human being in this bar - full of life and fake smiles.

Once catchy song was replaced by the slow one, silently beckoning for couples to come on the small dance floor, she stopped to move. Letting go the hem of her summery dress, she walked away, reaching the bar, desperate to get some alcohol in her system. She desired something strong, something that will make her forget the past few weeks, days, hours; the past few years of her life.

She was only twenty three years old and yet she felt like her life was crumbling, like an old pastry and she had no way out, at least not an easy one. In the past five years, everything she dreamed off was falling apart. Her life became just a hollow walnut shell, her dreams killed and her smile absent. That's why she sometimes escaped to other life, pretending that she is just like every other girl her age and not a prisoner of reality.

"Whiskey," she called out to the barman, holding up a finger and he nodded at her. He turned around and she watched him as he poured the golden liquid in the glass. Sitting on the stool, she pushed the gathered skirt between her legs, subconsciously hiding the stretch marks on her thighs that were evidence of her dramatic weight loss over the past year.

She looked around a bit, the filthy bar packed with people, drinking away their Friday night. They talked, laughed and mingled around her, looking carefree and happy. Her head wondered if there were more people like her in this bar on this night, pretending that everything is okay. She recoiled as some drunken guy stumbled next to her, his hand seeking support on her shoulders before walking away. Nevertheless cold shiver ran down her spine and goosebumps forming on her arms. With trembling hand, she lifted up her whiskey glass and took a sip, the liquid burning her throat slightly.

"That's a well unusual drink for a lady," someone spoke from across her and she looked up.

Her eyes met with a man, maybe a few years older than her. He was hunched over, circling a beer bottle with his large hands while he looked at her, not blinking. His hair was curling around his ears slightly but still resembling a bird's nest. She couldn't deny that he was handsome, especially his face.

With his high cheekbones, piercing eyes and strong arms, covered in tattoos - he looked oddly familiar but she brushed the thought away. She didn't know many people in this city, especially men who were beyond handsome like this stranger.

Realising she had been just looking at him, she casted her eyes shyly down at her glass, twirling it a bit. "Hah," she sighed out, "that's the only thing that washes away the pain." She finished, taking another sip of the whiskey.

"You're making me look pathetic," he grinned - his smile reaching his ears and she noticed his accent wasn't American but rather European. He took a long swig of his beer, smiling as he did so and reached out his pack of cigarettes to her. She shook her head in no, she wasn't a smoker but if she were one, she'd be chain-smoking, for sure. He nodded and took one for himself before lighting it up with his zippo lighter.

"Well, they say that the type of drink can dictate the weight of your problems," she gave a slight smirk looking in front of her, not meeting his eyes as she spoke. "So, if you don't mind me noticing," she motioned to his beer, "your life is pretty on point according to your Budweiser." He chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigarette and she just kept the smile on her face.

Both of them settled for the silence as they enjoyed their drinks although her eyes would wander over to his broad figure but just for a millisecond or two. She wanted to speak, say something funny but she just ended opening and closing her mouth few times.

"Why did you stop dancing?" he then asked out of sudden and she felt her cheeks blush, realising that he had been watching her.

"Not my song," she murmured watching him as he tilted his head on the side, smile forming on his lips. He then stood up from his stool, standing up in all his tallness and walked few steps closer to her. He sat on the stool next to her, their elbows barely brushing. He smelled of cigarettes and some kind of perfume, probably something expensive.

"What's your song, then?" he asked, coming closer to her. When she didn't reply, he smiled softly at her. "Let me buy you a drink," He drawled out and she nodded, not bothering to reply as he called the barmen over. "George," he said, reaching his hand to her.

She accepted his large hand as she whispered back. "Nellie."

The night was still young and the stranger was intoxicating. So they talked, getting tipsy as they ordered another drink. He was keen on knowing more about her but all she was telling him were bits and pieces but never a whole picture. She refused to let down her hair when he asked her to and he skipped the question when she asked what he was doing for living.

Soon enough, after they clinked the glasses for the fifth time, his hand found her leg and her trembling hand touched his strong biceps. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

**

"I like this song," she breathed out, his breath hot on her neck.

"Oh, so you are into indie rock," he murmured into her ear, his lips grazing at her pale skin. "I am more of a hip-hop kind of guy."

"Hmmm," she hummed, "Eminem used to be my favourite when I was younger." 

His strong arm was wrapped lazily around her waist and his fingers wandered to touch her skin just above her knee, making her shiver but this time from pleasure. The very same pleasure was replaced by nervousness as George's finger sliped further up her skirt and she stammered while answering his question on her favorite movie.

She quickly moved away from his grasp, suddenly sobering up as she slid down the stool - red alarms going on in her head. The whole situation was wrong and she had to get away from this place before she makes another mistake. But something in her, a small bit of her still-beating heart just didn't want to be obey her head so instead of saying goodbye, she mumbled "I think I'm gonna dance," before leaving and disappearing in the crowd.

Her heart was beating wild in her chest as she let the music lead her body. Dizzy from whiskey and his scent, Nellie bit her lip down and closed her eyes for a second before opening them again. From the corner of her eye, she noticed him looking at her and she felt her entire body heat up.

He watched her as she danced, twirled around in the crowd yet looking like the loneliest girl on this planet. Hypnotized by her and her blue eyes, he confidently walked over to her and placed his hand out of her to take it because he didn't want her to dance or talk to him. He wanted more than that.

She stopped moving, looking at his large hand before delicately taking it and he didn't hesitate as he pulled her close and their bodies touched making her shudder. He bent his head down to her ear before whispering, "Come with me tonight."

It wasn't a question and she knew that it was wrong but she nodded anyway.