A handful of hours, and I couldn’t let it go. Lethergo.
5
Giselle
3 years later…
“Hey, fuckwad, she said no thank you. Read the room.”
I can never mind my own business when douchebaggery is hard at work. You can move to a thousand different towns and change a million little things about yourself, but one thing is always there and remains the same. It’s the one constant that you’ll always find. There will be douchebags no matter where you go. Some women, some men, but you can always recognize them when you hear them—flaunting something mundane, peacocking even though there’s nothing to show, or being so narcissistic that they’d rather call you a name than smile and move on. Case in point, the tall guy with a scowl is not catching the obvious “go away” signals from the gorgeous brunette to his right.
He huffs and turns away. “You’re not even that hot. Bitch.”
“Ah, the sound of a toddler man not getting what he wants gives me such a lady boner. There’s such satisfaction in popping an over-inflated ego.”
“Thank you. I don’t get why some men don't understand that ordering me a drink isn’t a free pass to touch me or an instant phone number handout.” She smiles and raises her hand to call the bartender back.
“That wasn’t a man. That was someone dressed like one, but a man doesn’t act like that, at least not the ones worthy of the title.”
“I’m Everly. And I owe you a drink.”
“Giselle. And I’ll take a dirty martini. You know, I don’t blame the guy for trying. Gorgeous dress. Designer or local?”
“Local. Very local. Mine, actually.” I raise my eyebrows because I wasn’t expecting her to say that. “It was my final project in school. I try to wear it when the occasion arises. I kind of love it, too.”
The dress being praised is nothing too flashy, but it hits her curves just right. Thick black material with a deep V cut in the front, showing off just enough decolletage to be sexy, not stereotypically slutty, but still wholly fucker-iffic. It’s just short enough to show her toned legs. Her long chestnut hair is pulled back, and her earrings are simple.Stunner.
“You made that?”
She nods.
“Wow. I’d absolutely buy it in a second.”
She stares at me for a few seconds, gauging if I’m being genuine or just being polite, making small talk. “Well, I have some pieces like it, that I don’t know if I have a reason or the courage to wear if you ever wanted to see. It’s a hobby more than anything.” She shifts, and if I wasn't looking so intently, I’d have missed the slight undercurrent of her discomfort. “Are you here with someone or just out for the night?”
“You changed the subject, but I’d love to see your other pieces. I hate buying things that everyone else might have. And I never need a reason to dress in what I want, so I might just be your perfect customer.” I wink, and that gets a megawatt smile.
“I can see that. I like your shoes, by the way. I haven’t had a pair of converse in forever.” She surveys what I’m wearing more closely. My style is a little eclectic. I like mixing things together that don’t really classically jive—breaking the unspoken rules of proper attire or matching, for that matter. I’ve made some changes over the years to suit the personality I’m growing into, and I’ll admit, I like it. “The leather with the lace has a whole vibe that you can definitely pull off.”
Everly is easy to talk to. It also helps that she’s overly sweet, and I love a good compliment. I smile at her, grab a napkin from the bar, and swipe a pen from behind the bartender's ear.
“Here’s my number. I’d love to see those dresses sometime.”
“Are you here for skiing, or–?”
Another guy in a pair of jeans and a sweater squeezes in between us, flashing a smile. Very attractive. Not really my type, but I’m not sure what that means these days. His blindingly white teeth shock me a little, and it makes me bark a laugh. I look over to Everly and raise an eyebrow.
Toothy looks between the two of us. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting, but I had to come over here and talk to you.”
I love a good line, but I like a guy to sweat a bit if I can. “Oh yeah, why?”
I smile at Everly. Toothy is taken off guard by my response. He must not have to do much work when it comes to getting any around here.
“Honestly? You’re hot and you look like you’d be a good time.”
Everly just laughs to herself as she obviously overhears what's going on just a foot or so away from her. The bartender comes around with two dirty martinis, extra olives, and places them in front of my new friend. She peeks around Toothy’s shoulder, silently asking if I want an escape. What she doesn’t know about me yet is that I rarely need rescuing, because I don't give a flying ass hair if I hurt some guy's feelings. Nobody bats an eyelash when a guy is an asshole, and I’ve lived plenty of versions of myself to realize I’m not an apologizer or a handle-with-care kind of person.
“Listen…” I pause, waiting for Toothy’s name.