It's dark. Not late. Around half sevenish maybe. You are on your way home from a date, if you could call it that. The guy was tall, too tall, so tall that when he kissed you on the cheek to say goodnight he literally had to bend down. There had been nothing wrong with him of course, just like there had been nothing wrong with the last three guys you had seen, not unless you want to count a couple of freckles and a bit of a wonky eye. No, the reason the date wasn't a success was your fault. Your fault meaning that you just simply were not attracted to any of these guys. As hard as you tried you just couldn't bring yourself to like them. You knew the reason for this, it was all these stupid films you had been watching lately, where the girl always got this amazing, exciting guy that really intregued her. You wanted to know more about them just watching the film. It wasn't that the guys you'd been seeing were boring, nor were they uninteresting. Hey, Leonard had even been scuba diving in New Zealand! They just didn't have that something, it sounded cliche but there had been no spark between you and Jake, or Billy, or Leonard or Harvey. You just knew they weren't right.

It was mid October and the streets were mostly empty apart from a couple of dodgy looking blokes in hoodies and an elderly lady walking her sad looking dog. Evidentally people had better things to do with their Friday nights. It was ok, you'd go home, put your pyjamas on, watch some awful Friday night television which you secretly loved, maybe make a hot chocolate and then get some sleep. It was while pondering the wild night ahead of you that some thing caught your eye. A large, brightly lit pumpkin hanging outside the entrance to the pub. Where you lived wasn't massively remote, but it wasn't the place you'd get jam packed traffic every night. It was the kind of place if you didn't know someone you knew of them. And you knew that Mr Moone, the landlord of the pub absolutely detested public holidays, Halloween above them all. Which made the pumpkin hanging outside very suspicious...

You hesitated as you walked past the pub. It was starting to get dark. You should go home. But then, you never had been one for should. Why not? You'd had a long night, you deserved a drink. A coke maybe. You didn't fancy getting off your face tonight. Besides, it wasn't as if you would get served anyway. As you approach the entrance you realise how thirsty you actually are. The last drink you had had was a rank tasting cider that Harvey had bought you. You could still taste the dry, sour taste in your mouth, like an apple that had been sat on the sid for too long. Reaching the doorway you discover the door is wide open and there is quite a crowd inside. There's music too. You can just about hear the sound of Guns N Roses over the ruckus of the crowd. Maybe this was a bad idea. You didn't want to get involved with another man tonight, one was enough for this evening. It wasn't as if you always had a man on the go, you were no slut, it was just the kind of attention you seemed to attract. Never a 'Hello miss how are you?', never a 'can i take you out to dinner/a movie etc' oh no. The most romantic thing you had ever got was 'aye up love can I buy you a drink?'

"Well well wot 'ave we got 'ere, ain't you sommet, can i getcher a drink lovely?"

"No thanks," you said politely to the muscular man that had just offered to get you a drink. He was tall, probably double your height. He wore a black tank top and had a bald head that reflected light in every direction. He may not have been thick, but he sure looked it. Like one of those henchmen you see in gangster films, the one the big boss doesn't give a damn about, but he can sure as hell knock someone out. You quickly shuffle over to the bar before the bald man can respond.

"Hey can I get a coke please?" you asked the man behind the bar. He was relatively young, compared to Mr Moone anyway, he looked about thirty. Blonde hair, average looking face, good teeth. You saw them when he smiled in response to your question and gave a quick nod. There were three men sat at the bar. The one sat at the far end wore dungarees and had his greasy brown hair in one long plat, the one sat nearest the centre was hunched over slightly, reading some form of magazine, his light brown hair laying untamed atop his head. Then there was the fellow nearest the window, whom you had just had to pass to get your order in. Upon passing him you had suddenly noticed a vile smell emitting from him, so you decided against sitting by him. After pondering the greasy plat guy for all of half a second you decided to take a seat nearest the reading guy. He looked the most normal of the three, from what you could see anyway, which, in all fairness, was just the back of his head. You didn't sit next to him but you took the seat two spaces down from him. You decided against sitting next to a random stranger in a bar. You weren't that girl. You sat and waited for your coke while the reading man read and the barman fetched a glass. As he filled it up you heard a voice from behind you. The same voice that you had just declined a drink from.

"Oi you, i offered yer a drink ain't yer gonna take it? I got plenty a money if yer want a cocktail er something"

Blondie the barman glanced up and nodded towards the bald man.

"Think it's for you," he said quietly.

You turned and put your hand out in a 'no thanks' gesture.

"Honestly" you said, "I can get my own drink"

"That ain't right, ain't no young girl should be going out gett'n 'er own drink, come on just let me get yer a -"

"Really, I am ok," you said, a little firmer. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Is just a drink fer gad's sakes girl, ain't yer gonna let me getcher one -"

With that it appeared reading guy had had enough. With a swift turn on the stool he stared the bald man straight in the eyes, this already appeared to weaken the man, he looked almost hypnotised by reading guy's eyes. When you looked at him you could understand why. He was probably the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Not as in mucles, not as in tall dark and handsome, not as in Bruce Willis or Stallone, or any of the guys from your action movies (another one of your guilty pleasures). He was genuinely beautiful. His face, perfectly chiselled, was so intreguing that you couldn't tear your own eyes away. His eyes, blue as one of those swimming pools at really expensive hotels - you'd seen the adverts - were like glaciers, frozen like ice as he seemed to stare into the bald man's soul.

"She said, she didn't want a drink."

You had forgotten he had a voice. You had forgotten he could talk. Forgotten you could talk. Forgotten everything for you had been so lost in eyes that held so much mystery, that when he spoke it almost frightened you. When he spoke everything else disappeared. You could no longer hear the chatter of the women sat in the corner. The clinking of glasses disappeared. Even the faint drone of Morrissey in the background seemed to go silent when he spoke. Those seven words hit the bald man in the face, like a punch or a hard slap. Nevertheless he wasn't giving up that easily, he couldn't look that weak in front of his friends, who had now gathered into a small crowd and were watching the incident.

"Aye mister i weren't talking ter y-"

"I realise you weren't talking to me Mister Zsasz, but if i'm not mistaken i do not believe this girl was remotely interested in you purchasing a drink for her am i right?" He did not look at you. He had spoken so fast and said a lot of words, but his voice had remained the same calm, almost monotone voice for the entire length of it, you had not really taken in anything he had said. You weren't even sure if the last part was rhetorical or whether this is where you were supposed to come in. You decided you should probably say something. Swimming pool eyes remained frozen, his expression emotionless, he almost looked bored. Still, he did not look at you, his eyes remained solely focussed on the man you thought you heard him refer to as Mr Zazz or something. You could not be sure, you were a little shaken if truth be told.

"Uh... I,"

"Tell him you don't want the drink," Swimming pool eyes' voice was calm, but firm. Something told you it was imperitive you do as he said. His face still locked on the man, who currently looked like he would rather be anywhere but here.

"I don't want a drink," you said. Firmly this time, like Swimming pool eyes. You kept your cool and turned around to face the bar, your back to the man. You closed your eyes and for a second, you thought you were going to get a smack in the head or something like that. You waited. You waiting to be hit, or for an angry response. But there was nothing. Eventually you heard a sigh and the footsteps walking away told you the guy had given up, you don't know what the man with big eyes had just done, but it had worked. He turned round rather cheerfully and said "so, coke was it?"

Smooth as a whistle he slipped a fiver out of his pocket and slid it across the bar. Blondie took it graciously and rummaged in the till for a second.

"Keep the change," it was more of an order than a statement. It was now the man turned to face you. You couldn't bring yourself to look up for fear you would get lost in those eyes again, but you couldn't stare at the table all night.

"Are you alright?" this was not an order, or a statement. This was definitely a question. All the tension that had just been created by the man two seats down from you had suddenly disappareted and it was as if you were having a friendly conversation with someone you'd known for years.

"Yeah... yeah thanks for the drink I didn't -"

"Need another man to buy a drink for you," he said, finishing your sentence before you had even thought of the end.

"Need you to scare him off," you corrected him, smiling slightly. "I can stand up for myself."

He continued to stare at you and you returned the favour. You looked him in the eye. Something told you this was uncommon, for someone to return his gaze with the same thought in their head.

Who is this person?

You knew it was uncommon because he looked, for the first time since he had started speaking, interested. His bland, vacant facial expression had gone. His mask had been removed and for the first time he actually looked like he wanted to know more.

"Are yeh alright?" Blondie asked from over the bar. You had forgotten he was there. He was American, Texas by the sound of it. Unless he was putting on an accent. That would explain the pumpkin. The music. All of the customers. Mr Moone had hated customers. He was not a people person. Mrs Moone had always gone on at him about that. "Where do you expect to get in life with this darn attitude? You can't go around ownin' pubs with a god damn hatred of people! It'll drive ya mad!" she had been a nice lady. You remembered Mr Moone's face the day she died. He had opened as usual. You had come in with a boy, you forget which one. He had looked so sad, so lonely. You had almost felt sorry for him. And then he kicked you out and slammed the door.

"I'm fine thanks," you nodded in reply. Blondie smiled and went off to fill up the barrells. You took a sip of your drink and screwed up your face in surprise. You liked vodka and coke but the shock of it made you recoil. You turned to Swimming pool eyes who was sat there trying to oppress his laughter. He put his hand to his mouth to try and stop himself but it didn't work.

"You-" you looked at him with a mixture of both a shocked expression and an impressed one. That was the kind of thing you did at parties when your best friend wasn't looking. But how did he -

"I'm sorry i'm sorry," he shook his head. "You looked like you could do with a proper drink."

"Well thanks but I..." you contemplated getting up and leaving. You had just almost got beaten up and now some stranger was spiking your drink. It was time to go. Yet you didn't want to tear yourself away just yet...

"...if I am drinking, I am not drinking alone." You grinned menacingly. "Can I get some shots over here."

Swimming pool eyes looked almost scared, but impressed, as you challenged him to finish all six vodka shots before you had finished your coke. Of course you won, you had always been good with your drink, but aside from that you had only had half your coke left in the first place. You were in hysterics by the time he had got to the sixth one.

"Ahhhh," he let out a gasp as he slammed the glass down. "Not bad," he said, looking impressed. "What now?" you asked excitedly.

"Now," he said slowly, "now I am starting to find that disgusting lamp very attractive," he glanced over at the velvet looking purple pampshade that was placed dodgily on top of the lightbulb that porturded from the wall. You laughed and put your hand on his shoulder to stop you falling off your stool. You don't know at which point it was had had moved to the seat closer to you, you could of been the one that moved closer to him. You can't remember. "You are brilliant," you said in between laughing and gasping for air.

"Jonathan, you can call me Jonathan," he said, looking at you with what you almost thought to be affection.

"Oh, Jonathan!" You said in a mocking posh voice, swaying a little. "Can I call you Johnny, like Johnny Bravo." You don't know why you used the posh voice, Jonathan wasn't even that posh a name, heck, you'd known loads of Johns, you probably went out with one. Jonathan was different. Never had someone introduced themselves as Jonathan. You liked it. It was... different.

"You can call me whatever you like," he smiled, he was taller than you sat down, but not by a lot, you had never considered yourself to be tall and by the looks of it, neither had he.

"No," you looked up (but not by much) at him, "Jonathan is nice. I like Jonathan."

"Thank... you?" He said questioningly, squinting his eyes as you a little, as if he was trying to work out if you were being sarcastic or not. "And you are..."

You told him your name and he nodded, "more drinks?" he said with a cheeky smile, already knowing the answer.

Drinks with strange men was never a good idea. Especially when you didn't know the first thing about the guy other than his name. You liked him though. You wanted to know more, and something told you you would... in time.