First dates were always nerve wracking. She had been on too many recently, each date having his own unique way of rejecting her shortly after. She sighed as she gripped the railing on the bus. The evening was dark outside, and the lights of the bus caused her reflection to stare back at her in the windows. A tight green dress over a black turtle neck covered the curves of her waist and hips. Her long blonde hair draped over her right shoulder, and her blue eyes were frowning in her concern. Her knuckles whitened as the bus drew closer into the centre of town. People were beginning to gather their bags and rustle in their chairs, preparing to leave the bus and go on their evening adventures. She sighed again, her right hand running through her hair. The bus stopped, people queued orderly to escape its confinement. As she neared the doors she heard the rain. A couple of girls behind her began to moan loudly about the impact the weather would have on their hair, and the same thought raced across her mind.
Her heels clacked onto the ground as she braved the weather, and she hurried on her way, gripping her bag closer to her body and tucking her chin to her chest. Thankfully, the bar wasn't far from the bus stop, and it wasn't long before the warmth embraced her and the sounds of fellow drinkers filled her ears. She smiled and brushed herself down, passing her ID to the bouncers beside her. They waved her in and her eyes scanned the bar. There he was, standing against the wooden bar, one hand resting around a tall pint of beer, a cocktail standing alone beside it. She felt her heart race, her breath constrict. It was time to fake confidence, time to slip into her alter ego; the girl that is actually worth talking to. She walked up to the bar, replaying the word "hello" over and over in her mind, her eyes glued firmly to the floor. Three steps away from him, she looks up and allows their eyes to meet. Brown eyed with equally brown chocolate hair that looked stupidly soft. His chin was lined with deep brown stubble, causing her eyes to flick across the soft red of his lips. She blushed, and he stepped towards her. "Hey, how are you?"
Cool and calm, he showed no signs of nerves. Taking a deep breath, she smiled and stepped in to give him a polite hug. His hard body pressed against her and she felt the curves of his muscular arms as she drew away from the hug. "I'm good thanks, how are you? Good day?"
"Yeah, it's been good, it's been good indeed. I wasn't sure what you would like, but the bartender recommended this drink as being unavoidably good. So, if you don't like it we can get you something else?"
She glanced down at the cocktail; a long glass filled with ice, red dripping into orange. She took a sip, and smiled. "Ooh, so good."
"Shall we go sit down?" She nodded and then followed him to a table in the corner. Her eyes watched the curves of his back visible through the white shirt he was wearing, as her mind panicked on what she could possibly say to him that would be interesting.
As soon as they sat down he took control of the conversation, drawing her out of her shell until she actually felt truly comfortable. Occasionally, she would begin to tell a story she wished she had never started, and would panic tailing off a sentence by mumbling and wishing the ground would swallow her up. Every time her fears were simply brushed away as soon as he would just continue talking to her, asking her questions and showing a real interest. She was surprised how she looked at him and couldn't stop thinking he was cute. She hadn't expected that would be a possible adjective for such a tall, dark, muscular man. His arms bulged through the short sleeves of his shirt, and every time she glanced at them her mind flushed with improper thoughts.
The bar soon grew busy, and tables filled amongst them. There were shouts from the centre of the room as some rowdy teenagers began to frustrate the older regulars. The bar had recently lowered their prices attracting a new demographic, and changing the atmosphere of the place completely. She began to question if it had been such a good place to suggest for a first date. Nerves coursed through her and she realised that she could go on no longer without having a cigarette. Despite inwardly shaking, she boldly pulled her cigarettes from her bag, and asked if it would be alright if they popped outside. She studied his soft eyes, fearing his disapproval. She registered his shock but that was all she could get from him. He grabbed his jacket, and gestured politely for her to lead the way. Outside, she slipped the cigarette between her lips. Her thumb slid across the wheel of her lighter, and she took a deep pull. Nicotine rushed through her body, shutting down some of the inward screams.
"We could go somewhere else if you wanted?" She hadn't checked the time, but it hadn't seemed like it had been long. She'd genuinely enjoyed his company, fascinated by his kindness and realism. Then the cigarette between her fingers caused her self-confidence to plummet, and she quickly mumbled, "Actually, no don't worry, we can just go." She could barely handle rejection after a date, but to be rejected on the date? No way, so she had to retract any offer.
