There's No Such Thing as Prince Charming

Chapter 3

Of course, we ended up taking more than just one drink as Penny washed down her nerves with shots of vodka, and a margarita before she returned to her 'party till she drops' attitude - only a bit more tipsy than when we first got here. Still tired from the dancing and rough housing, I told Penny that I would take a breather here while she and Austin's friend, Matthew was dragged along to dance with her. My lips meet the cool glass as I slowly tip my glass back and take a sip of my strawberry daiquiri, the sweet, rose stained liquid having just enough alcohol to ease my worries with a light buzz. I watch for a moment, seeing Penny swaying to and fro, almost bumping into a few people, but saved by Matthew as he danced with her. The corners of my lips pull in a small smile, the thought crossing that they look cute together, before I turn around towards the bar.

Surprisingly, the bar wasn't as busy as I would have imagined. There were few people sitting down either to drown out their sorrows or just to get intoxicated enough to lose their sense of inhibition, and the waitresses coming and going, serving orders for people scattered throughout the building. Just as I take another sip, the dark haired friend sat beside me and ordered a glass of bourbon.

"So... Your friend seems she's feeling better." He chuckles lightly before receiving his drink. "But what about you? You okay?"

I glance at him and he looks at me with a mix of worry and curiosity flicker in his ice blue hues. I turn my head back as I gaze ahead. "I'm fine. Believe it or not, this isn't the first tussle I've had."

He grins as he takes another sip from his glass and he sits it down on the counter top. " Well, nonetheless I have to thank you for saving our dumb friend... He's a nice guy, but with enough liquor in him, he does some pretty stupid things."

"Isn't that the case with anyone?"

He laughs this time, and he brings his hand out towards me. " I don't think I introduced myself earlier. My name's Damien Alexander, I'm a writer."

"You don't say? Novels, journalist...?" A sudden peck of curiosity possesses me to inquire and he grins.

"A little of both, actually." He grins and it was infectious as I smile.

I sit aside my daiquiri and twist my chair. I prop my leg up onto the other as I rest rest my chin in my palm, signaling him that he's earned my attention and he cocks a brow.

"Wait a minute... Wait - Robins... I saw you on the news this morning, right?" He asks and I laugh a little.

" Lily, and - yeah... that's me." I answer, unable to disguise the twinge of guilt in my voice as it falters.

"I have to say your work is impressive. You really have a way with words that make the story quite vivid. Although I can't say I'm exactly a fan." He comments and I didn't know if I felt flattered or insulted as my brows furrow quizzically and he clears his throat.

" I don't mean to offend you, I just... I'm not really crazy about romantics." He says hesitantly.

" It's alright - Really. Now, your not the type of journalist that keeps a recorder on them all the time, are you?" I asks and he chuckles.

"No. I'm serious about my work, but not that serious." He smiles in amusement and I laugh.

"Well, just between us... I can't say I really care for love stories either.." I say and my smile fades at hearing myself admit it aloud.

My heart grows heavy and I take another sip of my drink. The rich sweetness once pleasant to the taste, suddenly became hard to swallow as it became sickening.

" So why write them?... I mean if you're not a hopeless romantic as your fans believe."

"... Not entirely sure myself." I say, but the glint in his eyes tell me that he knows I'm not being honest. But he doesn't questions it. "What about you? What do you usually write?"

" I write just about anything when it comes to my journalism. I've covered Royal love stories, heartbreaks, war heroes, and so on. I'm working on a novel at the moment, but it's not quite ready to be published yet." He smirks and  I laugh.

"Writers block?"

"Yeah... But I'll get out of it eventually. My main job pays well, so it's not like I'm in any rush to be the next New York Times." I couldn't help but smile and laugh softly as he gives me a look and a playful wink.

" Well I wish you luck with that. You'll have to let me know when you do publish it."

" I fully intend too. It would be an honor for you to read it when I finish." He smiles, " although... I don't have any means of contacting you, so how will I be able to tell you?"

It was as if ice crystallized in my chest as my body stiffens. I force myself to relax and I feign a smile. But he seems to catch my unease as he gives me a small smile. He pulls out a napkin from the other side of the counter and asks the bartender for a pen. I watch as his fingers swiftly write on the flimsy parchment before sliding it to me. I'd expect his writing to appear as illegible chicken-scratch like other men I've been given notes to, but his was seamless, elegant. My thumb traced over the last digits of the phone number written in blue ink and I look up at him as he smiles.

" I'll allow you to make the decision. I'm not going to force myself on a beautiful, intelligent stranger... but I really do hope that we can get to know each other." He says and I feel my cheeks flush. " But if you feel uncomfortable, you don't need to feel pressured to reach me."

Silently I study him, his broad shoulders lean over the bar as he takes another glass. There's a light stubble that ran across his jawline, with the exception of a small scar. His persona was shrouded with questions and as if I were reading a mystery novel, my fingers slowly flipping through the first few pages...The mystery is what is so alluring, and I've been given a small sample of his story. Now, he was baiting me to read more.

I place the note in my back pocket and his eyes flicker back to me. " I'll think about it. But, it'll help if maybe you enlighten me a bit more. I'm a bit more open to talk when I know who I'm talking too."

He chuckles before he pulls out his wallet and pays for our drinks. My smile turns into a thin line as he stands up and I hate to admit I feel my heart sink in disappointment. I was about to turn back to my daiquiri when he brought his hand out to me once again, and I stop.

" Then let me enlighten you, all I ask is a dance." He muses and my eyes widen.

I didn't know if it was the alcohol, or the fact I wanted to play Sherlock and uncover whatever cloak this man was hiding behind. I push the comfort of my strawberry drink aside and slide out of my seat. I take his hand and immediately the warmth emanating in his palm travels up to mine. I refuse to let myself find refuge in that feeling, as I dismiss old memories and follow him to the dance floor.