When the freshness of the outside hits me, I take a good inhale and enjoy the pure air that fills my lungs. A huge park full of trees surrounds the bar and there’s very few parking spots, so rarely cars pass by. Fortunately, only one spot remained for my arrival, four hours ago.

  “Come on… Don’t you want a taste?”

  The words drool out of the drunk lady’s mouth with difficulty. After the second round of questions, she was stationed near our table. Even came closer to me and Patrick, that clearly wasn’t interested. At first, it was funny, watching her pretend to be heavily impressed by my correct answers. But as she continued drinking, and even engulfed our set of free beverages (because yes, we won), she became relatively annoying. Andrew leered a few times in our direction, but Claire occupied most of his mind. She demanded lots of focus, which seemed to bore him to the core.

  I turn around with my eyes closed to channel the rest of sympathy I have in me. “That might be the worst pick-up line someone ever told me.” I answer, but with the corner of my lips curved still. She probably won’t even remember our discussion tomorrow with all the drinks she had. She pouts and tries to come closer.

  At first, I think of taking a step back, but I quickly realize she would fall face first on the concrete if I don’t hold her. She’s startled but then smiles when my left hand grabs her chin and keeps her head up. “I can do better.” She insists.

  “You wouldn’t be able to tell the way to your apartment right now. And would fall asleep in my car.”

  She feigns indignation and she’s really cute for a second. But nobody interests me. She doesn’t feel right. It’s like I have a string linked to my profound core and it’s tugging away from her. “I— won’t.”

  Her gag stays locked in her throat, but the moment her vomit spills on my shoes is imminent. I talk fast. “Go back inside and pay the toilet a visit. I’ll call you a cab.”

  She only nods and turns around furiously before pushing everyone inside and disappearing into the crowd.

  “I’m really sorry Claire,” I hear from my right.

  Phone in hand, I watch curiously while dialing the cab company number I found on the internet. Andrew and Claire are talking right in front of my car. Their discussion seems heated, by the words Andrew just said, but Claire is clearly pissed. Did he do something? “You’re sorry?”

  “I truly am.”

  “That’s not going to cover it. What did you think would happen?” She screams.

  The call rings and rings until I have someone on the line, and can’t really concentrate on their conversation. After explaining my position, he accepts and says he’ll be here in fifteen minutes. The girl hasn’t appeared yet, but she’ll surely come back. At least most of the people inside have seen her rush to the toilet.

  I’m drawn out of my thinking when I hear the indubitable sound of a slap. Claire is crying and red from the anger and Andrew holds the cheek that most surely received the blow. He’s turned in my direction and sees that I’ve witnessed the moment. She follows his attention and sees me too. Her sobs grow even bigger and she storms off in a torrent of cries, her high-heels smashing the ground with fierceness. Andrew doesn’t move. Worse, even, he acts like he deserved the hit. What could he have done to make her upset this much? Mister Goody-two-shoes?

  I don’t immediately join him because the girl is back outside, with her hair tied up and drops of water at the corner of her mouth. Another woman lifts her up under her arms, as her legs seem to have trouble supporting her. “You called someone for her?”

  “Yes. The cab is coming.” I answer the woman.

  “Don’t leave, please. I’ll sober up in a minute,” she grabs the side of my jacket. Her makeup is all smeared up on her face, and her scent is abominating. Not that it’s her fault, she’s just sick and drank a tad too much, but with my sensitivity, her presence is close to unbearable. The woman with her doesn't bother waiting for my response and talks directly to me.

  “I’ll wait with her. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Drink water. And sleep well.” I add to the intention of my admirer with a smile and start walking toward Andrew. His face is scrutinizing the ground, his hands inside the pockets of his long cream coat. I take a moment to properly watch him. He’s very elegant, choosing colors accorded with the season. After a few inhales outside the range of the drunk woman, I caught a whiff of his. There’s one element that I can’t seem to put my finger on. One with particular notes. Subtle associations that fog my mind and memories. For a moment, I close my eyes and try to visualize what odors we usually find in one’s home.

  But his voice cuts my train of thoughts. “What a gentleman you are.”

  My gaze falls into his and I’m immediately struck by the softness of his stare. His brown irises glow brighter under the shine of the late lights. His cheek is still reddened. I glimpse towards where Claire disappeared. “Can’t really say the same about you.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  He laughs and I hate the way my body responds.

  Why do I feel so drawn to him? Is it because of the anger? Because of jealousy? Do I envy his life so much, I’m unconsciously pulled into his sphere, forced around his aura? Would I really benefit from accepting his help? Could I even bulk up the idea of bringing the subject back? Now that I’ve made myself very clear about my opinion over his field and his specialty, I’m not convinced his help wouldn’t be preceded by a few jokes and spikes. “You’re right.” He simply answers.

  I play with my rings and he slides his fingers in his hair. My curiosity peaks. “What happened?”

  He takes a second looking at my face and I try my best not divulging anything. I’m still not one hundred percent comfortable around him knowing he’s probably analyzing each and every movement I make. A lift of the eyebrow, a flash of a grin, he scans all the details he needs. But right now, his eyes are fleeting and he chews on his lips before responding. “Let’s say I haven’t been completely honest to her.”

  “You?” I say with a taunting smile on my lips. I’m surprised. Dissecting non-verbal gestures all day must come with its lot of facilities. I would have thought knowing what people want all the time would only simplify things. And avoid these kinds of situations.

  When his gaze meets mine again, I can guess the guilt that resides behind. “It isn’t because I usually understand better what people desire that I always use it with good intention.”

  Well, that’s pompous. Who does he think he is? Batman? Lucifer? Understand better what people desire. Claire desired him with obvious envy, and I got that by just looking at her. But the rest of his sentence? “You’re not the all too perfect American man I thought you were.” I add, searching for my car keys inside my pocket. His attention sticks to my movement for a second and I wonder what he could possibly analyze through that.

  His voice dropped lower. “You’d be surprised.”

  When I watch him, his eyes are glued to my hands. And after bending his head to the side, like a curious dog, he looks at me again.

  I’m surely too drunk to think that this is what I think it is. “Is it off?” I ask.

  “Off?”

  “Between you and Claire?”

  His expression remains impassible. “I guess you could say that.” He scratches his beard and avoids my gaze. “You and Jesse?”

  “Jesse?” I can’t stop my laugh and let myself chuckle sincerely. “No, no, Jesse’s a good friend.”

  “He seems to be very attached.”

  “It’s not what you think. He’s with Tania.” Why am I trying to persuade him? Would it make a difference that he knows? Since when is my personal life any of his business? “He just likes to fuck around with me.”

  His eyes widen a bit at the bluntness of my words. I can almost see his cheeks get a little pinker. “What about Patrick?” he continues.

  “What is this? Is ‘Police Officer’ also on your resume?” I rest on the door of my car.

  “He’s clearly into you.” He doesn’t smile. Nothing betrays what he thinks. And it drives me crazy.

  I shove my hands inside my pockets as well. “I couldn’t care less.”

  He nods. Like all the questions he had in mind were answered by this sentence alone. The wind rises up and his scent finds my nose again. We stay like that for a moment more before my cough breaks the silence. “I should go home.”

  “You’ve had a lot of drinks.”

  He says this as a statement but also a judgement. “Yes?”

  “You shouldn’t take the wheel.” His expression has switched to worrying and I replay the moment he frowned watching me having my third shot of whisky earlier.

  A snort escapes my mouth. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I can call you a cab–”

  “I can call myself a cab, if I want to.” Now, I’m angry. Why? Can’t really say. I’m hurt, in my feelings, to be nurtured by a man I barely know. And that I hate. Well, at least I don't like. Not really. “Why are you being nice?” I say, without vocalizing the rest which would be; when I’ve been awful to you and your work since the beginning of our encounter?

  “Because there’s no point in being mean.” his eyebrows meet and somehow, he’s… cute. I’ve never really met a man that would bloom some kind of desire within me, which is even more unsettling. Well, only once. A long time ago. And although I’m still unsure of what Andrew blooms, he definitely does create a reaction.

  Jesse and Tania stumble out of the bar, arms over each other’s shoulders. “Hey! Alexej!”

  They walk awkwardly in our direction. Tania seems to be handling the alcohol better. “You’re leaving?” She speaks to no one in particular but we both answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Together?”

  I mentally remind myself to give hell to Jesse, once he’s sober, for his girlfriend. Couldn’t she shut her mouth? “Hum…”

  “No. I’ll walk. I’m living close by.” Andrew answers before I can come up with an excuse. Relief immediately swoops in.

  “Too bad. You two seem to have hit it off!”

  It’s official. She’s dead to me. My eyes search for Jesse’s, but he’s only giggling like an idiot under her arm. “Okay, good night, everyone.” I smack a kiss on my friend’s forehead and give one of my darkest glares to Tania. Once I’m back in front of Andrew, I had mentally made peace with the fact that our goodbye would be deeply awkward and will probably haunt me for multiple nights after. But his face changes the course of my thoughts. He’s sad. His hair is ruffled, his cheeks, the tip of his nose and ears are red, and he chews on his lip again.

  Why am I watching his lips now?

  My breathing goes heavy and I blurt a quiet bye before turning around and aiming for my car’s door. Once I’m behind the wheel, I see Jesse and Tania walking back to the front of the bar. And despite not directly watching, I can see that Andrew is still here. And worse even, that he’s getting closer to the car. He taps on the window, and for a second, I wonder if I really should put it down.

  The cold wind comes inside and Andrew rests his elbows on the door. “. It’s from Moulin Rouge. Watch this one, and tell me that it’s poorly written.”

  He carefully grins, shoves his hands back in his pockets and disappears in the night.