For a Little While
Regret It
Clink.
How long has it been?
I swirled the melting ice cubes in my glass around until there was nothing but drops of whiskey mixed with water. Before I could even call out, the bartender slid a new glass down, filled half way with the caramel toxin, two fairly large ice cubes like icebergs touching the bottom of the glass.
I sipped it slowly.
This was why I loved coming to bars. No one ever asked. And on the off occasion that someone did ask, if you said “fuck off,” they wouldn’t ask you twice. So this was the case, I’d been sitting on my ass in the same place at the bar for the past hour now. No one said anything; the bartender just kept on passing over the drinks.
It’d been a couple of weeks since the nasty breakup, but still–coming here beat being alone in my apartment. Seeing as the past year or so was taken up by memories of my former lover, it was hard to be in that room without seeing the ghosts dancing about the floor.
I lifted the glass to my lips slowly. The alcohol hit my nose first, then my lips, and then suddenly, it was dribbling down my cheek.
Someone had knocked my elbow, and it took a second or two for me to realize it.
“Sorry.” He mumbled.
Bed head and looking emotional as hell, the man who sat down next to me seemed to be completely unaware that there were maybe five other empty seats, all of them nowhere near me.
He ran his fingers through his hair, but stopped halfway through, letting his fingertips massage his roots as if he had a headache. He stayed like that for a while, not speaking, ignoring the bartender. It seemed to me like he’s had a pretty bad day.
As the ice in my glass clinked again to show it was in need of a refill, I raised two fingers to the man behind the bar. He nodded, then placed two full glasses in front of us.
Picking up one glass with one hand, I held out the other to the seemingly depressed stranger beside me.
He continued to ignore his surroundings. I sighed, waving the brown elixir in front of his nose to which he showed no reaction. “You’re going to have to drink something eventually.”
The stranger finally glanced over, but only for a moment. He grabbed the drink from my hand with a shaking grip before swallowing the contents in three gulps. He slammed the glass back down. The ice cubes clinked once more.
The bartender slid another glass to him.
Before he could repeat his behavior, I placed my hand over the glass.
It shocked me slightly when I felt his lips touch my skin on one side and the whiskey on my palm.
“You’re going to pass out if you drink that fast.” I grabbed a napkin and dabbed away the alcohol before it could get all sticky.
He chuckled under his breath. “That’s the point.”
“Bad day?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“What’s your name?”
“John.”
It was interesting–he was interesting. He spoke with such bitterness, and yet he didn’t make a second of eye contact. He continued to accept the glasses of whiskey, and he didn’t reject my company either.
“Your name.” John declared as if it were a question.
“Kina.”
John simply nodded before downing his whiskey as if it were a pill.
I stared in disbelief at how he could drink it so easily.
Placing his glass down slowly, John turned his head until his eyes connected with mine.
“If I took you home with me, would you make me regret it?”
I couldn’t hide my reaction as I suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. My lips parted slightly as if I had an answer, but I really didn’t. Was he being serious?
John scoffed. “Here’s a better question: if I took you home with me and I fell in love with you, would make me regret it?”
This guy was getting to be more confusing by the second.
“I don’t understand.” Somehow I knew this answer was far from satisfactory.
John’s verbal reply was replaced by his fingers on my chin, angling my face to his. His eyes bore into mine, quite serious with his intent. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, but it blended well with his cologne. He definitely wasn’t drunk, just heartbroken.
The charming stranger touched his lips to mine as if it was his way of saying “hello.” It was simple and placid. There was no force in his touch, only the feeling of his need for human contact.
And somehow it was enough to make me go crazy.
John sat back in his seat, as if the kiss we shared was already a ghost he was ready to ignore. I shook my head and faced forward again, sipping my own drink once more.
“I just need someone to talk to for a little while.”
How long has it been?
I swirled the melting ice cubes in my glass around until there was nothing but drops of whiskey mixed with water. Before I could even call out, the bartender slid a new glass down, filled half way with the caramel toxin, two fairly large ice cubes like icebergs touching the bottom of the glass.
I sipped it slowly.
This was why I loved coming to bars. No one ever asked. And on the off occasion that someone did ask, if you said “fuck off,” they wouldn’t ask you twice. So this was the case, I’d been sitting on my ass in the same place at the bar for the past hour now. No one said anything; the bartender just kept on passing over the drinks.
It’d been a couple of weeks since the nasty breakup, but still–coming here beat being alone in my apartment. Seeing as the past year or so was taken up by memories of my former lover, it was hard to be in that room without seeing the ghosts dancing about the floor.
I lifted the glass to my lips slowly. The alcohol hit my nose first, then my lips, and then suddenly, it was dribbling down my cheek.
Someone had knocked my elbow, and it took a second or two for me to realize it.
“Sorry.” He mumbled.
Bed head and looking emotional as hell, the man who sat down next to me seemed to be completely unaware that there were maybe five other empty seats, all of them nowhere near me.
He ran his fingers through his hair, but stopped halfway through, letting his fingertips massage his roots as if he had a headache. He stayed like that for a while, not speaking, ignoring the bartender. It seemed to me like he’s had a pretty bad day.
As the ice in my glass clinked again to show it was in need of a refill, I raised two fingers to the man behind the bar. He nodded, then placed two full glasses in front of us.
Picking up one glass with one hand, I held out the other to the seemingly depressed stranger beside me.
He continued to ignore his surroundings. I sighed, waving the brown elixir in front of his nose to which he showed no reaction. “You’re going to have to drink something eventually.”
The stranger finally glanced over, but only for a moment. He grabbed the drink from my hand with a shaking grip before swallowing the contents in three gulps. He slammed the glass back down. The ice cubes clinked once more.
The bartender slid another glass to him.
Before he could repeat his behavior, I placed my hand over the glass.
It shocked me slightly when I felt his lips touch my skin on one side and the whiskey on my palm.
“You’re going to pass out if you drink that fast.” I grabbed a napkin and dabbed away the alcohol before it could get all sticky.
He chuckled under his breath. “That’s the point.”
“Bad day?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“What’s your name?”
“John.”
It was interesting–he was interesting. He spoke with such bitterness, and yet he didn’t make a second of eye contact. He continued to accept the glasses of whiskey, and he didn’t reject my company either.
“Your name.” John declared as if it were a question.
“Kina.”
John simply nodded before downing his whiskey as if it were a pill.
I stared in disbelief at how he could drink it so easily.
Placing his glass down slowly, John turned his head until his eyes connected with mine.
“If I took you home with me, would you make me regret it?”
I couldn’t hide my reaction as I suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. My lips parted slightly as if I had an answer, but I really didn’t. Was he being serious?
John scoffed. “Here’s a better question: if I took you home with me and I fell in love with you, would make me regret it?”
This guy was getting to be more confusing by the second.
“I don’t understand.” Somehow I knew this answer was far from satisfactory.
John’s verbal reply was replaced by his fingers on my chin, angling my face to his. His eyes bore into mine, quite serious with his intent. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, but it blended well with his cologne. He definitely wasn’t drunk, just heartbroken.
The charming stranger touched his lips to mine as if it was his way of saying “hello.” It was simple and placid. There was no force in his touch, only the feeling of his need for human contact.
And somehow it was enough to make me go crazy.
John sat back in his seat, as if the kiss we shared was already a ghost he was ready to ignore. I shook my head and faced forward again, sipping my own drink once more.
“I just need someone to talk to for a little while.”