Bottoms Up

"Fuck off."

The clean cut man barely placed his ass on the barstool, before I sent him away. I was in no mood for conversation, much less aimless flirting that will get neither of us what we really wanted. I noticed the barman glance over at me, but he kept his mouth shut, only motioning to the guy another empty seat.

I glared back down at the watered down, warm whiskey in my glass. For the first time the Jack tasted tasetless. I was having no joy in drinking it, but the mere feeling of having alcohol in my hands was enough to take the edge off of my disaterous day.

"I hope you're not planning to find a husband with that vocabulary."

The deep yet sensual voice spoke over the bars music, a shiver ran through me, my stomach knotted and I felt nausuas, the whisky felt hot in my empty stomach. I turned towards the source of the voice at a snails pace.

I shouldn't have looked.

He sat a stool away from me, his painstakingly plain grey eyes held a brooding look, his nose had a bead of blood peaking out and the cut ons his nearly full lips looked painfull, not to mention his ebony coloured hair was sticking up all over the place. He looked exactly how I felt, in pain.

Words gripped the tip of my tongue, but for the first time today, I decided to keep them to myself, if I looked anything like he did I wouldn't have wanted to hear the things I wanted to say to him.

"I know you can talk, I just heard you bite that guy's head off, so why are you giving me the silent treatment?" He inched closer but the death glare I gave him was potent enough that he backed away again. I returned my glare to my whiskey, the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach kept on nagging me.

Why is this happening?

I sneaked a glance only to find him already staring at me, or still, I don't know. My throat suddenly felt dry, forcing me to grab my lukewarm whiskey and downing it. The liquid burned all the way down to my stomach, I had the sudden urge to cringe.

"You want another one?" His voice aggravated me as much as it soothed me, just the mere thought of talking to him made me anxious. Why am I acting like this?

"Sure" my voice sounded gravelly, even to my own ears. I cleared my throat, restraining myself from nervous coughing. The bartender slid a new cold whiskey onto the bar and held out his hand in waiting. I looked at it in confusion, not fully understanding what he was waiting for. I once again glanced at the man sitting beside me.

"I'm not buying your drink, if that's what you're wondering." I wanted to scowl at him, but refrained, seeing that in doing so I'd be basically welcoming his attention. And attention is the last thing I was looking for at the moment.

I placed the money in the bartenders hand, when he brought the change I motioned for him to keep it. He gave me a greatful smile before heading to another customer.

"At least she's generous." The guy comments as he sips his own whiskey. This time I did scowl at him, his remarks was starting to grind on me. He didn't seem fazed by my obvious irritation, in fact he graced me with a smile, whether it was genuine or not I wasn't sure. Something about him was just scratching me another way, it wasn't bad neither good. For some unexplained reason I couldn't fully bring myself to dislike him, even though I really wanted to.

I opened my mouth, wanting to tell him off, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I just sat there like an idiot openly staring at him. His eyes held mine long enough to make me feel self-conscious about my makeup free face.

I knew he saw the the horrible scars from years of fighting acne, my bushy untrimmed eyebrows, my lashes that that tended to curl downwards instead of up. I was a mess, physically and mentally, scarred on the outside and just as much on the inside.

I averted my gaze, half ashamed at my appearance, I wasn't an insecure person, but as he looked at me, like really looked at me, I felt more insecure than I have ever felt before.

He was doing something to me, this disheveled guy in the bar, was bringing up feelings in me that had died ever since I found out how much of a lie my life has been.

We further sat in silence, sipping our whiskeys and keeping to ourselves, brooding over our lives and the disastrous turns it has made.

Koi no yokan

(ko-ee no yo-kan) Japanese

(n) The extraordinary sense upon first meeting someone, that you will one day fall in love.