Shot

Phil wished it was raining. A little rain would mask the tears still fighting their way from his eyes. Too cliché, I guess, he thought bitterly. And then, Oh thank God, a bar. Phil wiped his face, prayed his eyes weren't too red, and ducked into the seedy dive bar. Dim lighting and a sheen of dirt met his eyes. The fish mounted on the wall struck a particular chord. He sidled up to the bar and rested his head on one hand. The skinny bartender was cleaning glasses at the sink, back turned to Phil. Phil admired his or her butt and tried to guess the bartender's gender when she called over her shoulder, "What are you having?"

"Uh.. pint of ale, I guess." The girl dutifully poured the ale and set it down in front of Phil. She had a wispy sort of brown pixie cut and chocolate brown eyes. Phil stared at her lightly tanned skin, willing himself not to see the resemblance, and suddenly realized she had spoken to him. "Uh, sorry, what?"

"I said, 'bad day, huh?' I mean, no offense, but it's not even 5 o'clock yet…" Phil appreciated that she hadn't added, "And you've clearly been bawling your eyes out."

"Uh, yeah. I just had a… nasty break-up." Phil and Dan had fought the night before about taking their relationship public. Phil was tired of hiding but Dan, ever the business man, hadn't wanted to risk upsetting the fans. The next morning Phil had gone out for a walk before Dan woke up, and returned to find Dan combing his hair and announcing he had a date with a fellow Youtuber, Amber, and that Phil shouldn't wait up for him. Dan had swept out of the room and that was that. Phil still hadn't quite processed the whole thing.

"On the house," the bartender interrupted Phil's thought by slamming a shot of whisky down next to his pint.

"Oh, no, thank you, but you needn't…" The girl waved dismissively.

"I was in your shoes last week and a friend bought me a drink. Let's just say I'm paying it forward." She smiled a little sadly. Phil liked her smile.

"Well, thanks… friend," he finished lamely, taking a long swig of ale.

"Samantha," she clarified with a ringing laugh.

"Samantha. Nice to meet you; I'm Phil."

"Nice to meet you, Phil. And good luck. I've heard it gets better." Samantha flashed that rueful smile again and turned back to the sink.

Phil stared at her back for a bit, deliberating and sipping his beer. Finally, he downed the shot, hoping the burning sensation in his throat would lend him the courage to take another.