bar stool // luke hemmings fanfiction

0.1

Haley's POV

I sigh in exasperation as I check my phone for the time. 9:34. Jeremy was supposed to be here an hour and a half ago. I can't believe he's still not here.

Jeremy is my boyfriend of three years. Actually, today is our three-year anniversary. He made us reservations at a nice new Italian restaurant, and we were planning on coming together after he got out of work, but he got held up and told me to go and he'd meet me no later than 8.

Well guess what. It's later than 8.

I've already called him about 11 times with no answer, so I decide to just leave the restaurant.

I grab my coat and purse and leave. I didn't order anything, so there's no need to pay.

As soon as I get in my car, I turn on the heat. It's ridiculously cold for March, and the fact that my legs are bare doesn't help the situation much.

I start the drive home, feeling let down and a little angry. It's still my anniversary, and I want to enjoy it, even if it is without Jeremy.

I pull into a little bar, though I can't drink too much because I have to drive home later. But a drink or two won't hurt.

After I park my car, I hurry inside to escape the cold weather. The bar isn't busy tonight, not that this one usually is. The only people I ever see in here are old men.

I walk up to the counter and sit on a bar stool, leaving 3 seats between me and the only other person here, who is, of course, an old man.

I order a beer from the bartender, a middle aged woman. I don't really like beer, but I don't usually drink so I'm not familiar with any other kinds of alcohol.

When the woman sets the beer in front of me, I don't hesitate to pick it up and take a sip. I make a face as I swallow, but I take another drink right after. As I do, I hear the door open and close behind me. Probably just another old drunk.

The cold air that was let in from outside makes me shiver, so I pull my coat tighter around me.

I can hear whoever just came in walking towards the counter. I watch from the corner of my eye as the guy sits one stool away from me.

I'm surprised to see he's not an old man, he's a young man, probably around my age. He's wearing a beanie, but I can see blond tufts of hair poking out from beneath it. I can't quite tell, but I think he may even have a lip ring.

He notices me looking, so I look away and take another sip of my beer. This time I try not to make a face as I swallow the liquid, but I don't succeed.

The blond seems to have noticed, because he laughs at me. Okay, he didn't laugh, but he did the thing where you half smile and blow air through your nose louder than normal.

I glance at him and roll my eyes. Just because I'm not used to the taste of alcohol doesn't mean this guy has to laugh at me for it. Especially when we don't even know each other.

The bartender comes over to take his order, and he asks for a shot of vodka. He has an accent of some sort, but I can't tell what it is.

I take another drink of beer and I feel eyes on me. I turn to look at the guy and he just smirks at me. Even when the bartender gives him his shot, he still doesn't look away from me.

"Can I help you with something?" I agitatedly ask.

"You're a bit dressed up for this run down little bar, don't you think?" he returns, his accent heavy. He's definitely not from America.

I look down at my purple dress and black stilettos. Of course I dressed up, I thought I'd be eating at a nice Italian place.

"I-I just felt like dressing up tonight. I don't get to go out much." I stammer.