the boy who loved the moon «on hold»

one

The air was thick with smoke from either cigarettes or cigars, giving me the urgency to cough as my lungs couldn't get much oxygen yet I dismissed this. I took in my surroundings, the clink of beer bottles, the high chairs and booths, the bar just a couple of feet to my right. I had never been to a bar myself, but I had an idea on what to expect, and that was partly the reason on why I didn't wear the sluttiest dress in my wardrobe. The other part of the reason was that, a) the sluttiest dress I owned went below my knees, and b) it was pastel pink and only considered slutty because it had a somewhat "deep" cleavage, as my father had called it. Nevertheless, I was able to sneak out in a skin-tight sequin skirt from my mother, a white v-neck t-shirt, and the black high heel shoes my aunt was so dear to get me in secret. It was pretty hard to even try to dress normally since my father always considered the clothing I wanted to buy as "slutty".

I took a seat on a stool in front of the bar, my eyes scanning other people's drinks to figure out what to order. There were easily more than 20 bottles lined up on shelves, each and everyone different from the other. I unconsciously started to twirl a strand of my hair in between my fingers, biting my bottom lip slowly as I tried to remember the brand of beer my father preferred.

Fingers traced along my hip, making me jump slightly from my seat and turn around. In that instant, my eyes met with a pair of chocolate ones, its irises only holding what I could describe as amusement and alcohol.

"I've never seen you around here before. You new in town?" he spoke, his tone matching his eyes although he didn't sound particularly drunk. He slid into the seat beside me, elbows resting on the bar as his hands made their way through his almost black hair. I turned to face the bar again, my eyes trying to avoid his own.

"I wish I was," I whispered almost to myself, yet I was pretty sure he caught on to what I was saying.

"Well, you have never been here, that's for sure. I think I would've remembered a pretty girl like yourself."

I tried to hide the smirk that was creeping its way into my lips, digging my teeth into my lower lip again as I tried to stop myself. "How many times have you used that one before?"

It's true I had never been to parties and whatnot, but that didn't mean I didn't know when a guy was flirting with me. He seemed to catch on as his smile sort of widened, his eyes opening slightly as his eyebrows jumped farther up into his forehead. "I have to admit, you are the first girl that has ever answered that."

"I can't believe you spend that much time here. How can your lungs take the lack of oxygen?" I offered somewhat jokingly, my forearms touching the edge of the wooden surface of the bar as I shifted a little to get comfortable.

"I guess you just get used to the hydrogen cyanide, carbon monoxide, and ammonia floating in the air," he replied after a few seconds. I had to admit, I was slightly surprised by the accuracy of his answer, not really expecting something involved with chemistry.

Shaking my head, I sneak a glimpse at him again. I can notice his white teeth and his asymmetrical smile taking hold of his face as his eyes are still trained on me. I get the urgency to just tell him to stop staring at me like I'm sunshine or something. It seems like his eyes are glued on me, literally.

I hear him clear his throat, his eyes finally leaving me as they sweep through the bar. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"My, my, you think you can buy me a drink and I don't even know your name." I joke slightly, my hands fidgeting with themselves nervously as I try to pull off a crooked grin of some sort.

"Fine," he surrendered with a light laugh, "my name's Zayn."

"Just Zayn?" I asked with a soft smile, finally turning to see him.

"That's all you need to know for now," he explains nonchalantly, looking in front of him so I was left to see the side of his face. He was still smiling, probably happy that I was just a little curious.

"Well, just Zayn, I'm Morgan."

"Morgan," he tried, gently letting the name roll off his lips. I took notice of how he made it sound as if it were made of honey, so sweet and desirable to the senses. I had never heard my name that way. "Isn't that a boy's name?"

"Are you going to buy me a drink or not?" I fired back, letting a scowl take over my lips although I knew it was all for show. He raised his hands as a sign of defeat, turning towards the bar to select a drink of his choice. He was probably going to order a beer, as the guy he was, possibly trying to get me drunk slowly then taking me to his flat/house/car to have intercourse. I knew I wouldn't get drunk and I wouldn't let him touch me in that way, but it still worried me that it was his plan after all.

"Can I get a cosmo for the lady and some scotch for myself?" Zayn instructed the barman as he stopped in front of us, probably because Zayn called him over. As the barman picked up a few bottles and mixed the liquor in them in a metallic mixing glass, Zayn turned to me, once more, biting his lip ever so slightly as his perfectly white teeth made an appearance. "Have you ever tried a cosmo? It's the best drink they serve here," he chatted. I let the grin now take up my face as a small laugh escaped to my lips.

"Oh Zayn, don't downgrade yourself to small talk. I thought you were going to ask all the hard hitting questions."

"Okay," he spoke slowly, his mind taking time to formulate a rather more intricate question. After a few moments, his lips opened again, his low clear voice sounding again. "Why did you come here tonight?"

I couldn't help but pretend to think about the answer, but it had been in my mind ever since I set foot inside of the bar. Exhaling, I let my eyes look into his darker ones, the shadows making them even more mysterious. "That's easy. I'm trying to escape."