Pack yourself a toothbrush, dear

chapter two

I scrambled out of the room in a breathless head-rush, looking for the open bar. Seems kind of ironic to have a bar inside a church ground, doesn't it ? Oh wait, didn't god like wine or something ?

I shouldn't have missed that bible study group as a teen. Shit.

I waddled around nervously, trying to avoid running into my mum or Calvin, they would just tell me to breath and take a seat. I don't want to take a seat, I'm not ready for the seat.  The backyard of the church was magnanimously huge and confusing, like a maize in Disneyland and I swear to god, I had run into Uncle Ben thrice in two minutes, I was seventy percent sure he was following me at this rate.

"Louis, C'mere, you look so handsome tonight, just like a prince !" A voice called out shrilly, cutting through the crowd and I held back an urge to groan but then, I noticed it was Aunt Sally. She had the notorious reputation of being the alcoholic aunt of the family, she would definitely know the directions to the bar.

Not to assume, of course. You can't assume those things. 

"Aunt Sally, thank you so much. I must say you look nothing less of a diva yourself. Now, why is your hand empty ?" I smiled, flashing my teeth at her wild hairdo. It was styled in a way that she looked like she just walked out of a movie where Marilyn Monroe was the lead actor.  "Let me grab you a drink, please ? anything at all ?"

"A margarita would totally be heaven right now, sweetheart" She smiled, displaying her front two lipstick laden teeth. "The bar is just behind the storage room, yeah ?"

"On my way, me lady" I smiled in a careless manner and winked to add to the effect. Aunt Sally grinned just as maniacally and blew me a kiss. Should I tell her there's lipstick on her teeth ? 

I looked back stealthily to see if I can see Uncle Ben loitering around. To think of it, he could have been told by my mum to keep my eye on me. To my utter perverse relief, he was too busy peeking into some old woman's blouse, so I slowly back pedaled and took a sharp left to pass into the dim corridor. I passed one of the waiter on the way and paid him fifty bucks to put laxative in Uncle Ben's drink. Creeps deserve crap, pun definitely intended. I'm hilarious, by the way. 

Stumbling into the bar, I already felt a little drunk, blame it on the nerves. One or two people were casually gulping down the free drinks at the rate of a Japanese bullet train. A six foot tall curly haired guy was behind the counter, making drinks for the guests. He worked with utmost concentration, flipping and shaking the bottles like a juggler in a circus. Bartender are awesome. As are clowns. I love the circus, wait-

"Excuse me" I call out as I cautiously sit my arse down on the bar stool. Curly looks up and I hold my breath. There's this strand of sunlight that falls through one of the high windows and lands on his face diagonally, lighting his eyes up into a smooth shade of gray, almost. He smiled at me warmly, dimples digging into his marshmallow like soft skin. Was he a model for Gucci or? I swear I have seen him in some Christopher Nolan movie or something.

His hair was  pushed back softly, like it was done is a careless haste and it poured down in luscious curls, barely reaching beyond his ears.

which were tiny.

Now, If I were a poet, I would write a haiku comparing his eyes to the fresh dew covered grass in the morning, bright and shining. But I'm not, so, I would simply say they were the shade of green that contrasts everything and anything near it. Like ripe olives hanging out from a branch mixed with a serene shade of a hummingbird's wings.

"Hey there, is there anything I can get you?" His honey smooth voice called out, it felt like a melody stretched out over a violin. His speech was a lazy drawl in a Cheshire accent, I presume?  My eyes flickered on his name tag Oliver Chalamet.