Somewhere in the Middle

The Road Ahead

Jamie sat hunched over his drink, hoping nobody would take any notice of him sitting there, in that little, somewhat empty dive bar in the middle of Baltimore. The air inside was thick—the air conditioning was sputtering loudly and not doing much to dispel the humidity—and there was a woman cackling every few moments from somewhere in the back. Jamie wished someone would shove a sock into her mouth.

People had written things all over the bar top in marker, so Jamie tried to focus on that, on reading them—words and names and memories forever printed on the grainy wood. Or at least until they faded away.

Jamie ran a finger over the ones just beside his drink, the ones that looked pretty fresh: Sam and Gigi, BFFs forever xoxo. And he couldn't help but wonder why anyone felt the need to memorialize anything here—in this grimy bar—particularly a friendship that would supposedly last forever. Nothing lasted forever.

He knew that better than anyone.

He didn't bother asking Nate to come with him. Jamie wasn't feeling a club scene, and knew that that was all Nate wanted to do. So, Jamie had left the venue without a word to anyone, walking until he found this little dump, ignoring the buzz of his phone in his back pocket all the while.

The liquor barely burned anymore, so he downed the rest of his bourbon, then waited for the bartender to meet his eye so that he could get another—he'd lost count of how many he'd already had. But he was distracted when someone slipped into the seat next to him.

A girl.

A beautiful girl.

And Jamie was drunk, but not drunk enough that the sadness in her eyes, written in her body language, was lost on him. She didn't even glance at him, just stared at the bartender down at the other end of the bar, her impatience clear in the way she stuck her arm out and waved it around to get his attention.

"Whiskey. On the rocks." She seemed to remember something as the bartender spun around, and practically shouted a, "Please," to his back.

Jamie found that funny. And he didn't try to hide his laughter.

She looked over at him then, flicking her brown bangs out of her brown eyes, and didn't look amused, but she didn't say a word before facing forward again, her eyes falling to the words on the bar in front of her.

Jamie still felt himself smiling, and let his eyes slide down her body, noting the way his reacted to the soft swell of her boobs in her black t-shirt, to the blonde hairs on her tan arms, then the smooth skin at the top of her leg, just before the end of her jean shorts.

She didn't come here to get fucked. He could already tell that much. But that didn't mean Jamie wasn't going to try.

The bartender placed her whiskey down in front of her, and she reached for the bag she'd set in her lap, but Jamie spoke then, stopping her movements. "It's on me," he said directly to the bartender as he reached into his back pocket.

The girl didn't even look up at him, just kept sifting through her bag. "No, it's not." She lifted up a credit card. "Open a tab for me, please."

Jamie laughed again, watching as the bartender turned around with her card in hand, but he felt his jaw go slack when she downed her drink.

"Shit," he said, impressed.

The girl didn't even sputter, just held up her glass for another.

"Who burned you?" He held up his glass as well, and the bartender took both at the same time.

She sighed, but didn't answer.

"That's cool," Jamie said, reaching for his wallet. "Didn't really give a shit, anyway."