Chasing Her

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The punk band is screaming their incoherent lyrics to their hard-edged melody as the stage lights flash over the excited crowd. Concert goers jump, sing and dance along to the band's music with joy on their faces, while the smell of stale alcohol, cleaner and cigarette smoke fill the air.

That familiar bar smell.

Why didn’t he tell me we were coming to a hole in the wall to see a punk band? I look like a fucking moron. I’m surrounded by ripped jeans, band tees, crazy coloured hair, piercings and tattoos. And then there’s me.

Who comes to a punk rock concert in dress sneakers, khakis and a button up shirt?

Me. I’m that guy.

I’m going to kill Dan.

We were supposed to be going to some nightclub or lounge. I’m dressed for that vibe and their stupid fucking dress code. Instead, he brought me here, to listen to a screaming punk band.

Don't get me wrong. I love Punk music. This is totally my scene. But, this was supposed to be a night out to mend my broken heart, hopefully by getting laid.

And the way I look? Yeah, that ain't happening here.

Liza dumped me a few weeks ago and here’s my bro whose left me alone, totally ignoring me, making out with some random girl on the concert floor.

I’m the one who’s supposed to be making out with the random girl.

I sigh looking down at my almost empty beer, and slug back the contents. I need to drink more to get through this.

I start pushing my way through the crowd towards the bar. Finally reaching it, I lean my forearms onto the sticky surface and grimace as I immediately lift them off.

That’s just perfect.

The bartender gives me a judgemental look. “I’ll take a Heineken please!” I call out to him, but he turns away and completely ignores me. The girl to my right me snorts out a mocking laugh and shakes her head.

She’s facing the stage with her back resting on the bar, a glass of brown liquid in her hand, rings adorning her fingers. She’s hard on the surface with a scowl, and a wall built up around her that you can see from a mile away.

But the longer I examine her, the more I see her beauty shine through this tough exterior.

She has long blond hair that's up in a messy ponytail with a few small braids strewn in and a couple of small streaks of red and black laced throughout as well. Her sleeveless Disturbed concert tee reveals grey and black tattoos on her upper right arm. She's wearing black ripped skinny jeans, black chucks and a cute gold nose ring.

She is totally pulling off the rocker chick look.

“What’s so funny?” I shout over the music at her. The flashing lights flicker across her face highlighting the devilish grin that tugs at the corner of her mouth. She leans in to respond while still focusing on the stage.

“All you preppy boys and your premium beers. Do you have a home brew setup too? Make your own IPA?” she pauses to finally look at me, quickly eyeing me up and down, failing to look me in the face. Her expression does not hide her negative assessment of me.

She spins to face the bar and finishes her drink in one gulp. She quickly glances at me again, this time our eyes meeting and I’m taken back by her arctic blue eyes, accentuated by the dark, smokey eye makeup she’s wearing. Her heart shaped face is perfectly complemented by her cute pink, pouty lips.

My heart rate picks up looking at this stunning woman in front of me. I can't help the way my eyes scan over her body. I can tell she works out by the way that her shirt and pants hug her curves perfectly.

She turns her focus from me to the bar, and raises two fingers and salutes over to the bartender. “Two shots of whiskey please! And a bottle of Heineken for the preppy guy!” she calls out as her thumb gestures over to me with a smug smile on her lips.

“Coming right up!” The bartender responds immediately, turning to make the drinks. The same guy that completely ignored me a moment ago.

I’m the fucking outcast of this bar.

“What? Am I invisible?” I ask, my eyebrows pinched in frustration. She looks back over at me, her eyes examining me again.

“When you’re at a bar like this, dressed like that? Then yes, you are invisible. This place does not is not your style. Shouldn’t you be at some lounge that all the accountants frequent?” she asks with arrogance and a raised eyebrow before she turns back to focusing on the band on stage.

No, I should be somewhere else, like a dark nightclub grinding on and making out with some girl who is just as eager for a one nighter as me. But here I am, fighting to hold onto some sense of my pride.

I lean in closer because I feel the need to explain myself. I cannot get passed up by this gorgeous woman because of a poor outfit choice.

“Despite what you might think, I like bands and places like this, I just wasn’t prepared, is all. My buddy told me we were going to a nightclub, then he brought me here. And now he’s ditched me for some piece of ass he’s making out with. And I’m stuck here being sized up by a beautiful woman who thinks I'm something I'm not. I’m not this lame preppy guy you make me out to be, I own a Disturbed t-shirt too ya know..”

Why would I say that? What in the actual fuck Tanner?!

Her head whips towards me. She’s chewing her cheek, trying to not burst out laughing at my sad attempt to prove to her I actually am more hardcore than I look tonight.

But how I failed miserably. I squeeze my eyes closed with regret.

I have no game.

“Oooooh ya do, eh? You're very hardcore then. You got a tough guy T-shirt.” She raises her eyebrows, nodding with one of those sympathetic, ‘I pity you’ looks.

“Let me guess, you had box seats at that concert. Some intense head banging with the corporate duds.” she chirps, biting her lip to hold back her smile.

What is with this girl? I’m not this loser she’s making me out to be! Even though everything I seem to say and do is making me look the part.

Before I can respond to her jab, the bartender brings us our drinks and I throw down some cash. I tilt the head of my beer towards her to cheer and she raises her shot. She takes it like it’s nothing. Not even flinching at the burn running down her throat.

This woman has intrigued me. I want to know what’s under that hard surface.

I like that she’s nothing like Liza. She’s steadfast and as much as she ridicules me, I want more. Her energy has pulled me right in. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that Dan ditched me.

The set stops for a break and the band’s drummer jumps off the stage and into the crowd. He pushes his way through and comes up to us, taking the second shot of whiskey right off the bar and downs it.

The shot that I paid for.

I look at him puzzled. What the fuck he is doing? Then he takes this rocker girl into his arms and they start making out.

Oh. Utter disappointment sinks in my gut. But I still can’t help but look right at them.

She peers at me with an angry side eye. I nod, taking the hint, then take my beer and start heading out towards the curb for some fresh air.

Clearly she’s taken. Out of my league. And I’m just the loser who got dumped the other week. Dressed like a preppy douche.

Oh my Fuck, I’ve lost my edge.

Probably why Liza left me. Probably why the rocker girl thinks I’m a loser. If only I had the chance to prove her wrong.