Wrong

She tapped her fingernails on the bar counter as she hoisted herself up onto a bar stool. After getting the bartender’s attention and getting her drink order in, she pulled her cellphone out from her purse and reread her last text messages from him.

Her eyes narrowed the more messages she read. By the time she reached the last message, her drink had arrived. She tossed her phone back into her purse and didn’t bother to fetch it again for the rest of the night. She downed the shot that was placed in front of her before she requested another one.

To clear her thoughts, she breathed in deeply before she exhaled slowly. She had known the rules, the consequences, and everything else in between. However, when the moment came that their relationship was to end, she was winded by what had happened. It was done with though, and she knew she shouldn’t dwell on it. She didn’t want to think about the rule she had broken. She didn’t want to think of the consequence of breaking that rule. And most of all, she didn’t want to think that their relationship – or more like arrangement – had ended.

After downing another shot, she couldn’t help but think about why the rules were there in the first place. They were there so no one would get attached, so no one would get hurt. She almost scoffed at that. One of the rules for their arrangement was not to fall for him and she already knew she shouldn’t. And yet before she knew it nor could stop herself, she was faced with the cruel reality that she did in fact fall for him. In more ways than one. She was his, mind, body, and soul. But he wasn’t hers. Not in the way she wanted.

She ordered another shot before she bothered to give her surroundings her attention. The place was dark except for the lights that illuminated the bar and the few tables that lined the walls. It was fairly busy, but then again, it was a Friday night in the heart of downtown. It was late enough in the night that more than half of the place was full, but early enough that the college crowd hadn’t arrived yet. There were a few young people like herself already there, but mostly it was the older generation who stopped by for a drink after work.

By her third shot, an afterthought flashed through her head that maybe she should slow it down a bit. After a quick glance at her watch, she realized she probably shouldn’t blackout by eleven at the least tonight. The more she thought about her current situation, however, the more she just wanted to drink. So throwing that idea out the window, she ordered herself another drink. She knew that by this time and by how many she had to drink, she was bound to break down into tears at any moment if she didn’t think of something else. And if there was one thing she hated the most, it was drunk crying, especially in public. She instead blinked back her tears as she continued eyeing the place.

As she scanned the area, she made eye contact with a man all the way down on the other end of the bar. He was easy on the eyes and by the look he was giving her, he was interested in her. He raised his pint of beer as a toast from where he sitting while she raised her empty shot glass back at him. Shortly after this exchange, another shot was placed in front of her. Before she could ask where the shot came from, because she certainly didn’t order it herself, the bartender spoke up.

“From the gentleman down the bar,” he said and she nodded in understanding. Right as she was about to raise the shot and toast to the man, she found he was gone from his seat. She wondered where he went before somebody sat on the stool next to her and she didn’t need to wonder anymore.

“There’s really no right thing to say to a pretty girl like yourself at a bar without it coming off as a pick-up line,” the man started.

“I’m going to cut you off right now and tell you that anything you try to say, right or wrong, will come off as a pick-up line regardless,” she answered with a smile. He couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I guess that’s true.”

“So how about we cut out the middle man?” She held out her hand and introduced herself. With a smile on his end, he shook her hand and told her his name.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked as he nodded towards her now empty shot glass. She shrugged. She really didn’t want to tell him anything too personal, but answered anyway.

“Just drinking.”

“I can see that,” he replied as he referred to her empty glass. “Can I buy you another shot?”

“Only if you’ll have one with me.”

He grinned at her and ordered two more shots. “So you’re quite a drinker, yeah? My type of girl,” he said as he eyed her up and down. She ignored his blatant staring and even let him place a hand on the small of her back as they took a shot together. “So what do you do for a living?” he asked after they finished off their shots.

She shook her head at him as she replied. “You don’t wanna know that.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been told it’s intimidating.”

“With such a cute face like yours, I highly doubt you can intimidate me.”

She almost wanted to roll her eyes at him, but rather she replied to him with an almost sickeningly sweet smile on her face. “I’m a repossession agent.” She noticed the look of surprise on his face.

“I’ve never heard of a girl repo man before. I didn’t think girls could do stuff like that.” The extremely sexist comment wasn’t lost on her. She didn’t bother to reply to that and instead hummed at him and ordered another round of shots on him while he continued to try to sweet talk her.

She found the man in front of her attractive enough, his flattery – albeit not the best kind – was a distraction from why she was out drinking in the first place. It wasn’t, however, enough for her to care about anything else that left his mouth from that point on. She was heartbroken, she was drunk, and most of all, she was in desperate need of a different kind of distraction from him. She stopped him in the middle of one of his many feeble attempts at flattery and placed a warm hand of his forearm.

“How about we get out of here?” she suggested. He glanced down at the soft hand on his arm and without questioning her or giving it another thought, he paid for their drinks. She stepped down from the stool, trying everything in her not to stumble or sway too much. When he was all squared away with their bill, she held onto his arm, partly to keep her balance and partly to feel how strong his arms were.

The two ended up back at his place which was a few blocks away from the bar. As soon as they walked through his apartment door, he was all over her. She welcomed his embrace, loving the feel of a strong man against her own body. As they pulled off each other's clothes the further they entered his apartment, she couldn’t help but feel as if this was wrong. It didn’t feel wrong in the sense as they were two consenting adults who could do whatever they damn well pleased. Instead, to her, it was more wrong that this man in her arms, this half naked man, wasn’t the man she wanted. This man wasn’t him. And he never could be.

When they finally made it to his bedroom and into his bed, she realized there was no turning back now. She wanted to sleep with him. If only as a distraction. But the further they continued, the more she couldn’t push the feeling that everything about this man was just… wrong. His kisses were wrong. His touches and caresses were wrong. Even the sounds he made were wrong. Everything was completely wrong about this man, because he wasn’t him. And in that moment, she knew this wasn't the right kind of distraction for her.