It should have burned. But it didn't. He was used to it by now, the liquor, and the burning sensation it left in its wake as it slid down his throat. Even when he first drank, though, it paled in comparison to the fire within him. A fire that had dimmed as he continuously searched for something that could not be found, shutting out the world, becoming numb.
Then he saw her. Beautiful as the moon with eyes blue as the sea, coffee skin and long chocolate curls. He stared at her as she remained oblivious to him, seemingly unreachable like she was in another world though she was only across the bar, and he felt the sensation of his fire growing, burning, almost alien to him now.
Then she saw him looking with those golden eyes, fierce and yet gentle, hiding behind raven hair. And she smiled. And he smiled.
But his mouth dropped open as she slowly licked the rim of the glass bottle in her hand, her eyes never leaving his.
And before they knew it, they were face to face, no longer divided by separate worlds or empty chairs. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned closer, his hand on her thigh, her hip, the small of her back, and she suddenly felt so dizzy. She reached for him, and he for her and when their lips met, his fire roared through him in a way that it never had and he loved it—loved her—and he pulled her closer, determined to make her love him back.
And she did.
But the moment passed, as moments do, and her name was called from the door, and she left him with nothing but the rush of love and a look, a silent promise that they would meet again.