Borrowed

At the prime age of 26, things were finally beginning to look up. The quarter life crisis was officially over and forgotten. I had just gotten the promotion at work and was living in the city of my dreams. Things were great and seemed to only be getting better with each moment. I leaned back in my barstool and took it all in.

Breathe in, and breathe out.

O’Reilly’s was home to my weekly Friday night hangouts. It was a bar more on the pricey side – hey, it’s New York – and was tucked away in a quaint little hole-in-the-wall kind of manner. To find it, you had to be looking. I’d only been coming for a few weeks now, but there seemed to be a constant stream of regulars and more importantly, there was nice ambiance to the bar. It was dimly lit and there was always the humming murmur of chatter and rhythmic music playing in the background. I didn’t quite understand the Irish name though. The visible Irish influence? Not a single shamrock in sight.

Though I must say, the whiskey always seemed to be running.

The bar was relatively empty for a Friday night at this time. The most noticeable group were a couple of men around my age sitting diagonally across the bar from me. One of them caught my eye. He was blond haired, blue eyed and devilishly pulling his necktie loose and letting it hang.

I studied him even closer and watched as he smiled at some joke one of his friends had told. Blondie had beautiful teeth – the perfect, super white kind you see on Crest 3D commercials and decide that there’s no way they’re real and it must be photo shopped. That and the fact that by the way his shirt rippled you could practically see the outlines of taut, rippling muscles.

Lord, he was practically a god.

I was aware I was staring, but I just couldn’t help myself. It should be a crime. No, not staring at beautiful men, but beautiful men out in public pulling their neckties deliciously loose. Surely there should be some kind of warning sign. Flashing lights, sirens, anything…? Suddenly, we made eye contact – blue pierced green. Crap.

I diverted my eyes quickly and locked gazes with another man. He was late.

“Liam. You’re-”

“I know, I’m late,” he carelessly brushed a kiss on my cheek before dropping into a barstool, “I’m sorry. There were these clients and this woman and then she started crying and it all turned to absolute shit from there.”

I rolled my eyes. There was never a time when Liam wasn’t late… nor was there ever a drought of tears or a famine of upset women. And of course, he couldn’t ever say no to a woman in fear he might genuinely upset her.

That and the fact that Liam seemed to constantly be running on his own time, which wouldn’t necessarily be a problem if the world weren’t running on a completely different schedule. Kind of like the International Meridian Conference and France. Blasted France who couldn’t agree on the Greenwich Meridian and instead ran on it’s own time for years. Yeah, Liam was France. Only he would own a gym membership to a center open 20 hours a day, 7 days a week, and want to go from one am to five am… exactly when they were closed. It was just the Liam thing to do.

So? It’s kind of the same idea.

“But I’m here now and that’s what’s important. Besides, I was thinking about your pretty little face the entire time wishing I were here with you. I swear.” he finished with a stupid smile. Then as soon as it appeared it morphed into a frown and worry lines began to appear on his scrunched forehead, “Who is that and why is he looking at you… like that? He looks awfully familiar. Do I know him? Do you? Where do I know him from?”

Why would I know where Liam knew other beautiful men from? And if Liam per chance knew other beautiful men why wasn’t I aware? And if Liam did know other beautiful men why wasn’t he lining them up at my door and making love matched?

He squinted and strained to get a better look and then began to push himself up, “I’m going to go find out.”

“Liam,” I rested my hand on his bicep in an attempt to calm him down and gain his attention all at the same time. When had he gotten so muscular? “Don’t worry about it. Are you afraid he’s going to steal me away or something? Like a Princess kidnapped by some Pirate King and kept hostage on his ship so she can’t marry Prince Charming – I’m quite the catch. Also, I only ripen with age like a very fine wine… with a side of expensive cheese and caviar… and water crackers.”

Liam continued to frown, “No.” He said dismissively and sat back down. Then he was on to the next topic, his worries long gone. “Speaking of ages, what’re we going to do about your birthday? It’s coming up soon, very soon… what are we doing? And don’t say nothing.”

“Nothing.” He looked at me bewildered.

“We’re not doing nothing, we’re doing something… Something we just don’t know yet. Its your birthday!” Arms went flailing.

“Whatever you say Liam. You’re the big hotshot New York lawyer. You’re the boss.”

“Well when you put it like that…” The smile was back – what a smug little prick.

“You’re so modest,” I mumbled under my breath barely audible, “There better be no strippers for my birthday."

“I know,” He flashed a smile and then flagged down the bartender. I wasn’t quite sure whether he was agreeing with my comment about his modesty or taking the stripper thing a little too seriously, as if it’d even been a thought in his mind even for a second, “Can I get a Bourbon and a Cosmo for the lady.” She nodded eagerly and rushed off. Someone thought Liam was cute.

“Who said that’s what I wanted?”

“Did you want something else?” I shrugged. Maybe I did, “Thought so. Cosmo it is.”

And maybe it was the same drink I practically ordered out every Friday. I was a woman who liked to keep it simple and keep it classy.

I looked over at Liam. He was scruffy, which was representative of stress at work. Liam had a habit of getting too overwhelmed and forgetting to shave when stress was piling up and placing a heavy load on his shoulders. He wore his stress, literally. He clenched his fist and then released a sigh. “Things have been busy at work,” As if reading my mind he let it spill. I was right. He ran a hand through his hair messing it up in the process, yet of course, it still managed to look absolutely flawless. Of course. Some things in this world just weren’t fair, at all.

He shrugged off his jacket and proceeded to throw it across the back of his chair. Then he went for the tie pulling it loose and slinging it around his neck. Finally came the unbuttoning of the collar button of his dress shirt. It was all off.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s been absolute hell, just too many cases and not enough staff to handle it all. I’m glad we’re busy and that I have a job, but it’s a little much. The backlog is just unbelievable.” Then he went for the second button. Ladies and gentleman, the man was bearing it all.

“How risqué of you,” I commented motioning to his bare chest peeking out above the collar of his crisp white, linen shirt. It was an attempt to lighten the mood and steer conversation clear of the unforgiving workplace.

“Oh this? This is nothing,” He gave a cheeky smile, “You should hear about—” He was cut off. I guess I wouldn’t be hearing.

“Here you are.” The bartender laid out our drinks and gave me a knowing look before a fleeting flash of jealousy. Surely she didn’t think we were together?

“Thanks Lisa,” He offered her a dazzling smile while his eyes were screaming sex appeal.

“No problem…”

“Liam, Liam Gallagher. Thanks.” I watched the exchange. He really didn’t need to try filling his bed for the night while still in my company. Couldn’t he wait?

“It’s my job. It’s nice to meet you.” she smiled and scurried off when she noticed the sour expression on my face.

I gently prodded the lime wedge dangling from the side of my glass. I ordered a Cosmo, not a beer on tap. I didn’t even like lime. I pulled the treacherous garnish off my glass and passed it to Liam who mindlessly took it, squeezed, and dropped it right into his bourbon. Was that even good? I shuddered in distaste. Every week I always said I’d ask for no lime and somehow I always forgot and ended up with lime. Liam would probably miss his strange concoction anyway…

“Really?” I asked, “How do you know that one?”

“I heard one of those guys over there hitting on her,” He motioned to the same group of guys, the ones huddled diagonally across from us, “The blond one said her name was Lisa. I don’t like him. The way he said it sounded sleazy.”

Sleazy…?

I picked up my drink and rolled my eyes, “Really? This again? Get over yourself, they’re probably stressed and on their way to being drunk and carefree. And it’s a Friday night. Give them a break. Besides isn’t that what men do? Hit on bartenders. It’s practically in her job description.”

Liam took a swig of his drink and then swirled it around in the glass. He looked at the amber liquid in heavy contemplation. One more sip and then he opened his mouth, “It doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like that guy. I know his type.”

“And what would that be?” I asked incredulously and snorted softly, “Male?”

“Ha ha, aren’t you just hilarious?” And then he mumbled, “Pig…”

“You’re really something.”

“Tall? Dark? Handsome? All of the above?”

“Ha you wish!”

“We could call Lisa back over and ask her. I’m sure she’d be happy to agree with me.” Again with her, really?

“About Blondie or your very unfortunate condition?”

Liam grabbed my hand suddenly and pulled it to his chest cradling it. “Don’t be jealous,” he began, “It’s Friday night and Friday nights are reserved for my favorite girl.”

I went to compliment him on his smooth moves and quick recovery when he chose that exact moment to open his big, dreadful mouth again, “Nala.”

His cat? “You do have a very unfortunate condition.”

We spent the next hour or so chatting about nonsense and trivial matters and anything that didn’t have to do with how horrible work was or the impending doom known as my 27th birthday. This was how we spent our Friday nights. Every Friday night. Whether it be secluded and tucked away in one of our apartments or at the bar we always seemed to gravitate to nowadays, we had each other and that was never going to change, ever.

“Do you have plans for tomorrow?” I quickly went over my schedule mentally. Nothing came to mind, but then again it was seldom I did have plans unless they included Liam in some form. I shook my head. “Good, I have something planned for us. There’s something I’ve been meaning to do for a while now and I want your input.” He looked dead serious. What was he up to now?

“Well? Are you going to tell me what it is?” I asked with an arched eyebrow, “The curiosity is killing me.”

“No. It’s a surprise and I think you’ll be okay. I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning,” He took my hand as if it were going to help him get his point across.

“If you don’t tell me where we’re going how am I going to know how to dress?” I asked smugly. Now he’d have to tell me. You couldn’t take a girl out and leave her in the dark about proper attire – even if it wasn’t a date you didn’t ever want to be caught dress inappropriately.

“Casually,” He gave me a funny look, “besides, you’re always perfect. Now let’s get out of here. I’ll take you home.”

“Oh how chivalrous of you Mr. Gallagher,” I pretended to swoon.

“I’m practically a modern day Prince Charming, especially if you get to be the Princess. I’m all in, always. Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from all the baddie pirates out there. You’re always number one,” he smiled lightly while shaking his head as if he were actually thinking about the situation realistically. He probably loved the idea of playing Superman and having women swoon over him.

“I hardly doubt we’ll be encountering any real life pirates on the streets of New York.”

“I know. Thanks for everything Lisa,” he called across the bar giving her a wave and dropping a crisp twenty onto the bar. I shook my head. What a shameless flirt.

I looked back over at Blondie one last time and caught him staring. Unlike me he didn’t turn away in embarrassment. He just kept smiling. I smiled and shook my head. What a pompous ass. I looked back at Liam. He had noticed the blatant staring too. “Leave it,” I warned before he even had a chance to act before he thought.

“I don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Next time I won’t let you stop me. Next time I’ll say something. As Prince Charming I’ve got to defend the Princess’ honor,” His eyes narrowed considerably and he muttered something incoherent.

“What?” I asked giving him a look. If you were going to bother saying something you might as well say out so everyone can hear.

“That pirate is looking at your booty.” I choked back a hearty laugh when I noticed his intense gaze on the other man. How could Liam actually manage to say that with such a straight face? Suddenly, he got up and grabbed my coat and then ordered, “Let’s go, we’re leaving.”

I guess the night was over. So much for chivalry and Prince Charming.
---