“What the hell?” I whispered to myself.
“Fooling the world; none of them know you as I do. Why not me? Why never me? Standing right here you masterful puppeteer.”
I don’t know if it was the lyrics, or just the way that he sang them. Either way I found myself unable to look away from him, even to drink. It was as though I had come here just to hear him sing.
I sat watching as he ran his hands over the strings of the guitar. I was transfixed, bewitched, and overwhelmed. I could feel my throat closing up.
“I should go,” I muttered to myself when his song was over. But I simply sat there, staring down at my drink and unable to move.
Finally, I lifted my glass and swallowed its contents, and Tristan, my good old trusty bartender, poured me a new glass. I didn’t feel like crying. In fact, I didn’t have any more tears to spill. I was just tired. I had spent the last three and a half months with my mom. We fought, we cried, and then she died – in that order.
“Can I buy you a drink?” a voice behind me asked.
I turned to find the same devilishly handsome man from the stage, standing right beside me. He stood over six feet tall. He was fit, but not in the bulky, bodybuilder sort of way. His skin was fair and flawlessly smooth, his lips were full, his features were chiseled and well defined, yet still, it was his eyes that truly captured my attention. Without being aware of it, I leaned in towards him and smiled. He was totally at ease.
“Tristan, should I let him buy me a drink?” I turned to the man behind the bar. Tristan snorted, looking over at the man who waited for a yes.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Thanks man,” the man said, frowning at Tristan while I laughed.
Tristan replaced my drink, which I had not yet finished, with something new and pink.
“Still vodka?” I asked him.
“Still vodka,” he nodded.
Smiling, I turned to the Casanova and shrugged. “Looks like I already have a drink, but, seeing that you’re empty-handed at the moment, I’m happy to buy you one,” I teased. I turned and dramatically rapped my knuckles against the bar. “Tristan! Give our friend here something manly.”
They both laughed at that.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said taking the seat beside me.
“You do see this drink is pink, right?” I asked him.
“I think I’m comfortable enough with my sexuality,” he winked.
This was usually the point where I left guys at the bar, but for some reason, I just shook my head. I didn’t want to leave yet.
“You were good, by the way.”
“What?” He smiled as he leaned towards me.
I pointed to the stage and grinned. “Your song, what did you think I meant?”
“Nothing,” he laughed. “And thank you, I didn’t think anyone noticed.”
“Why wouldn’t anyone notice?”
He raised an eyebrow and looked out over the dance floor. Following his gaze, I noticed that everyone was glued to each other, and no one seemed to care what kind of music was playing. It was Sunday, so I guessed everyone wanted to end their weekend on a high note.
“At this point, they might as well not have clothes on.” I tilted my head to the side, watching as a man’s hand worked its way up his partner’s dress.
“That’s what they’re working towards,” he laughed. “I’m Levi by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Levi,” I said trying not to seem interested. He was attractive, but I was more the type who’d rather look than touch.
Yeah right.