"You better take it from me, that boy is like a disease. You're running, you're trying, you're trying to hide, and you're wondering why you can't get free. He's like a curse, he's like a drug, you get addicted to his love. You wanna get out, but he's holding you down 'cause you can't live without one more touch."

Cowboy Casanova

******

Even under the dim lighting of the bar, there was this one guy who stood out. He was tall, dark and he was definitely a jock, like maybe he played football or basketball in collage. He was sitting in a booth with three other friends. A skinny, pretty boy who looked kind of nerdy – in a cute way, that is. An intense dark haired man who seemed serious even when he smiled. Another older looking man, who looked kind of familiar, like she had seen him – or at least his picture – before. Now, she found herself sending a smile in his direction every once in while, as she traced the rim of her glass.

He was definitely a player. There was no way that he wasn't. It was in his blood. His confidence – maybe even arrogance – radiated off him. From the outside, he was just like every other douche bag who broke her heart and she swore that she never let herself be attracted to guys like him again, yet there was something different about him that drew her attention.

He was waiting for someone. She had seen him scoping out the crowd. Who was he waiting for? A girlfriend? Fiancée maybe? Or a date? She wasn't sure, but there was no way he was single. At least, not tonight. That she was positive of.

He caught her eye for the third time that night, flashed her a smile but showed no interest.

Another wasted night. She laughed silently; she thought it was just like her to be attracted to someone who was either a player or in a relationship. Or in this case, both.

Checking her watch, she shrugged at the time. She didn't mind spending hours just watching him and seeing what his mystery woman looked like.

And she began to picture the girl he had been waiting for. Blond? Redhead? Maybe a brunette, she guessed. Tall. Maybe not as tall as him though. Long legs. Pretty. Whatever it was, there must be something special about his girl – something that would draw your attention to her.

She was aware she was blatantly staring now; but it was like she was addicted to just looking at him and taking in everything he did. He had charisma – that was for sure. Just in the way he held himself, she knew he had something special about him.

Then she thought, maybe he was waiting for another male friend. Nah. He was dressed too nice to be waiting for a male friend. She was pretty sure he wasn't gay. If he was, it would be such a shame.

Then he smiled. He had a small smile on his face all night, but this smile was different. His face lit up. It was like this particular smile was specially reserved for someone. She turned and saw two blonds and a brunette walked through the door.

And suddenly, she felt a pang of jealously. Desperate much? She tried to laugh it off as she took another sip of beer. He actually was like a drug that she couldn't get enough of; she tried to mask her laugh at her inner thought process. What was her problem? There were many available guys in the bar at that time. Yet, she wanted the only one that was clearly taken.

That was it. She had to leave; there was no way she could continue to stick around to watch this man shower attention on his girlfriend, and be jealous over some chick she didn't even know. Dropping a twenty on the counter, she grabbed her bag, hopped off the stool and turned to leave. But she bumped into the brunette before she reached the door and both women apologised instantly.

The tall brunette placed her hands on her shoulders, steadying her. "I'm sorry," she shouted over the loud music, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she shouted back, "I might have had a little more than I should. It's not your fault."

The brunette smiled warmly, "Should I get you cab?"

"No," she yelled over the music, shaking her head, "There is no need. I'm okay. Thanks."

The three new patrons of the bar shared a look among themselves.

"Honestly, I'm fine."

"Okay. Be careful," the perky blond in a bright pink jacket smiled and wished her good night before tugging her friends away.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she turned to see which of the three ladies was the girl, the man she had been watching, was waiting for.

And she was right, his girl was a brunette. It made perfect sense.

She stood in the corner, just to see how he greeted her and she found out that Derek was his name. His girlfriend's name was Emily. Pretty name. Suddenly, she doesn't regret taking lip reading classes. She smiled as she watched Derek pulled Emily close to him and planted a tender kiss on her temple. Emily blushed lightly when Derek leaned in to whisper something in her ear.

She glanced around and realised she probably had done some mild stalking. She took one last glance over and smiled again when she saw Emily pull Derek onto the dance floor, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulders.

Yeah, he was gorgeous. He was attractive. He was addictive. He was just like any other scum bag she had dated...

But there was something different. He adored his girlfriend.

Shrugging as she made her way out of the door, maybe, one day if she was lucky enough, she would be able to find someone like Derek.

Someone who isn't a Casanova.

I love to know what you think... Especially since this was kind of different. Thanks!