The battered brass bell that hung above the scarred wooden door clanged its discontent once more. She glanced up from her drink nervously. Every time the door opened, she grew tenser. She scanned the unfamiliar faces, looking for the familiar details that she had memorized long ago. Every time the door opened, a new haze of smoke drifted her way. The cooler, fresh air never made its way in that far. Even though she arrived only twenty minutes early, she still felt like she had been waiting forever. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering wildly and she thought that they would burst through her chest. The door opened again and still, no sign of him.
She was starting to get impatient. She was starting to worry. What if he decided not to show up? What if he had second thoughts? What if something happened to him on the way and he couldn't call? Now she was being silly. Nothing was wrong, nothing happened along the way, and he did not change his mind. He was going to be here. She just showed up way too early. Twenty minutes was way too early. The door opened again, this time a group of people walked in. Straining her eyes, he was not there. Looking down at the moisture beaded on her glass and the ring that the falling droplets made on her napkin, she realized that the first drink had hit her pretty quickly. Her kidneys were screaming at her to let them do their thing. Her head was whispering loudly that she needed another drink to calm her nerves.
When the barmaid came around a second time, asking if she wanted to order yet, she politely asked for another Whiskey Sour and said that she was still waiting for her guest. The barmaid took her empty glass, looking slightly perturbed, and walked towards the bar. Her kidneys finally won out on the screaming match. She stood up, smoothing her skirt over her thighs and buns, sighing heavily. She would need to touch-up her makeup and she grabbed her purse off the chair next to her.
Her heels clicked loudly on the tiled floor and the lights seemed just a bit too bright. At least there wasn't as much smoke in here. Her eyes were red like she had been crying. Thankfully that wasn't the case. Yet. Hopefully he would show up. Touching up her lipstick, washing her hands, she straightened the seam on her pantyhose and walked back out into the noisy bar.
A few steps from her table, she noticed that someone was sitting in her seat! Her heart jumped high into her throat. NO! Her mind screamed. I have to sit there! I told him if I got here first that I would be sitting right there. He'll think I'm not here. God, get him out of my seat! Regaining her composure, she held her head high and approached this seat-stealing fiend. Reaching to place a gentle hand on his shoulder she started. "I'm sorry but I really need to be sitting here. I only got up to use the ladies—"
The stranger slowly turned and she felt it even before he was facing her completely, the raw electricity. It was Him! He turned towards her, and smiled. Those eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes. She felt her heart beating loudly in her chest. She felt a weakness take over her legs. He stood and reached his hand out to take hers. A spark traveled between their fingertips. When his strong hand finally encased her delicate one, their eyes met and there was an instant knowing between them, an instant connection.
"Casey," he said, in more of a statement than a question.
"Greg?" She said breathlessly, almost in disbelief. Her voice was barely a whisper above the bar room crowd.
She placed her other hand on the table to steady herself. Once released, she sat quickly. It was either sit or swoon right there at his feet. She sat next to him instead of across from him and his eyes traveled over her, drinking in her subtle beauty. The softness of her gently styled, espresso brown hair that hung teasingly above her shoulders. The brightness of her chocolate brown eyes. The smoothness of her creamy skin, tinged with rose at the cheeks and lips. The concealed yet noticeable curve of her swelling breast beneath her snugly knit, off-white, v-neck sweater as she tried to slow her breathing. She was everything he had pictured yet nothing that he imagined. Seeing her finally made him wonder why he hadn't chosen to meet her sooner.
Casey grabbed her drink and took one long swig before placing the now half-empty glass in front of her. Where the tang biting her in the back of her jaw. Seeing him finally sitting there was like a dream come true. She had never thought this day would come. His sun-kissed brown hair was thick and luxurious, silently calling out to her fingers to rake through it. His brilliant smile seemed to take up half of his face. His dazzling blue eyes sparkled like the rarest sapphire found. Everything about him was perfect, exactly as she imagined, down to the button-up, denim shirt he wore.
They sat in silence for only a few moments before they both were overcome with the urge to fill the void. Speaking at the same instant, they both laughed. The barmaid arrived with his drink and knew there was nothing she could do to get them to place an order so she made her way back to the bar to pick up another patrons' drinks. Greg was the one to start again.
"I have a confession to make, Casey." He said, leaning towards her, taking her hand in his.
Her eyes grew wide with disbelief; disbelief sprinkled with hurt. He was going to say he was married. He was going to say he was just stringing her along and that he had no serious intentions towards their budding relationship. He was going to say he was a homosexual. That would just take the cake. All of the men she had ever been attracted to had either been married, gay, or looking for a one-night stand. She didn't know if she could handle the letdown one more time. She didn't know if she would be able to just let him slip away. She didn't want to admit that she was hoping that he would be the one. That she was hoping her search would be over and that she could finally settle down and be content with whom was in her life.
"Yes, Greg?" Casey swallowed hard, her mouth now as dry as the outside of this new glass that had been handed to her. He took a breath before starting again, with a pause just long enough to add worry to her eyes.
"I can't sit here and lead you to think that I…" and his voice trailed off.
Her shoulders slumped and she jerked her hand from his, wrapping her fingers around her drink and squeezing the glass as hard as she could without even wondering what would happen if the glass broke. Her white knuckles were clenched in a death-grip on the innocent glass. She looked down at the table between them. She moved to reach for her purse. She knew where this was heading, and she had seen it all too many times before.
