Captivated

// part 1 \\

Magnetism.

That's the only word I could really use to describe the aura that emanated from the tall drink of water standing at the other end of the dance floor. He was leaning against the wall with a drink in one hand and the other tucked loosely in his pants' front pocket. His brown hair was swept back in a casual, tousled style that made you want to run your hands through it, and he had cheekbones sharp enough to cut. I must say; my heterosexual self was impressed.

Since I had entered the misty club earlier that night, I had tried desperately to have a good time. After all, I was here for my best friend's bachelorette party. But there was just something off with me that day, and it was so hard for me to let loose even after a few drinks. So after a few attempts to dance with my girls, I had finally thrown in the towel for the time being and taken a place at the bar. But that's when I caught sight of the previously-mentioned male specimen, and my interest in being there peaked for the first time that evening.

Maybe I had held my gaze a bit too long, but soon enough he locked eyes with me and blessed my existence with a gorgeous (if not courteous) smile. I smiled back, and then casually turned to the bartender to order myself another drink. I definitely wasn't the type of girl to take someone home on a random night at the club, but who says I can't appreciate human art when I see it?

I didn't bother looking back his way for a while, and merely focused on letting the alcohol do its thing. I didn't want to be that person who ends up being a drag at a party, so I hoped I'd soon be in the mood to rejoin my friends on the dance floor.

But suddenly there was another presence in my peripheral line of vision, and who else would it be other than Mr. Tall-Lean-and-Handsome. I looked up into his sea-green eyes, grinning slightly.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked in a smooth British accent, gesturing to the bar stool situated beside mine.

Of course he had an accent. What was next; him being a doctor?

I shook my head. "It's all yours."

As he sat down, I took in the rest of his features now that he was closer. His outfit of choice for the evening was a plum V-neck t-shirt, with black wash jeans and a pair of black leather ankle-boots. The ensemble suited him incredibly well, but I had a feeling he could wear anything and it would look good. Definitely model material.

He settled himself on the stool, resting one of his long legs on a rung of the chair while leaning his right arm against the counter. "My name's Tom," he introduced himself, stretching out a hand. Again, he flashed me that million-dollar smile. It was even more beautiful up close.

I shook his hand, giving him a genuine smile in return. "Nice to meet you, Tom. You can call me Toary."

Withdrawing his hand, he laughed. "I can just call you that, or is it actually your name?"

I chuckled. "It's my name."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Toary." He turned slightly to signal the bartender, then looked at me again. "Can I offer you a drink?"

I lifted the glass that was next to my hand, taking a sip. "I'm all set. Thanks though."

Tom nodded, then ordered his beverage. "Jameson on ice, please," I heard him say, and the bartender quickly set it out. Picking it up, Tom moved it my way, and I clinked my glass against his. "Whiskey...Fancy," I mused, raising an eyebrow. We both took a sip, and our drinks were set back on the counter. Tom shrugged. "I like to keep it classy every now and again."

I nodded. "So where are you from, Mr. Tom?" I crossed my legs and rested a hand on my knee. My other arm mirror's the one that Tom had resting on the counter. "All I know is that you didn't get that accent living here in Chicago."

Tom laughed softly. "No, you're definitely right about that. I grew up in the UK and came to the states for work. I travel between the two countries depending on who needs me."

"Sounds like you're important."

"I wouldn't say that... There are many others who could probably do my job as well if not better than I can, but I enjoy what I do."

"And I think that's what's important anyway." I gave him a reassuring smile. "There are days where I wonder why I'm still at my job... Lord knows I'd love to do something else." I surprised myself with that last statement. Not many people knew that I didn't like my occupation; Tom was incredibly easy to talk to. It definitely didn't help that he maintained such interested eye contact and made me feel like I could tell him my darkest secrets.

"Well what is it that you'd really like to pursue? If you think you'd be happier, I would definitely encourage you to try something else." Tom laughed. "Says the guy you've only just met. What do I know?"

I returned the laughter. I was genuinely having a good time talking with him. "Oh, I don't know. I've never given it that much thought, but I always thought working in a museum of some kind would be fascinating."

"Do you enjoy art and history?"

"I do. I've been interested in the subjects my whole life."

And so the two of us continued conversing until I had completely lost track of time. It was as if me and Tom had known each other for years, or were long-lost friends with a lifetime to catch up on. I even seemed to forget where I was until my very-tipsy best friend suddenly showed up by my side.

"Oh my god, Toary, there you are!" Emily slurred, raising her voice more than was necessary to be heard above the club's loud music. She seemed completely oblivious to Tom's presence.

"Oh hey girl," I greeted her, smiling. "I was just taking a little break and ended up making a new friend." I gestured towards the male's presence, and only then did Emily look his way. Giving him a very obvious once-over, she did the one thing she does best, and that's embarrass me.

"Toary, I thought I told you I didn't want a stripper tonight. I just wanted it to be us girls, going out dancing and having a good time."

I was mortified to even consider what Tom must be thinking right now. "Jesus, Em! He's not a stripper! I know you didn't want one; me and Tom were just talking. Like I said, I needed a break from dancing."

Emily shrugged. "Okay, well you better get back quick. Kat put in a request for my favourite song."

"Okay!" I replied and watched her stroll back onto the dance floor. Turning back to Tom, I didn't know how to properly apologize, although he was on the verge of laughter. "Tom, I am so sorry!" I briefly covered my eyes in shame. "You definitely don't look like a stripper; my friend has just had a few too many and it's clouding her vision."

Tom released his pent-up laughter, and I couldn't help but giggle myself. "It's perfectly fine," he replied between laughs. "Although I'd like to believe I could make a decent wage being one."

Before I can stop myself, I answered, "Oh, you definitely could."

Tom raised an eyebrow over a curious twinkle in his eyes, but said no more on the subject.

After a few more minutes of conversation, I felt obligated to rejoin my small group of friends on the dance floor. I actually felt a slight tinge of regret when I informed my new-found friend. I was having a great time talking with him.

"Well, I guess I'll have to go find my friends again. I am here for a bachelorette party, after all." I smiled apologetically. "It was really nice meeting you."

"Oh, please. Darling, the pleasure was all mine." Again, he awarded me with his stunning smile. I felt my skin tingle as he took my hand and brushed his lips softly over my knuckles. This man was too much... Absolute gentleman, interesting to converse with, more than pleasant to look at, and an accent to make your heart melt... Definitely didn't need to call me "darling" and treat me like damn royalty to top things off.

Slightly flustered, I almost didn't find my voice to answer his question that followed.

"Save me a dance?"

Nodding, I grinned. "I would love to."