I hate bars. I also hate Valentine's day. Fate must have been compelled to revel in my torment because coincidentally I was in a bar, on Valentine's day. True, I had come here willingly, but still. I wasn't gonna stay home when I knew my roommate was inviting her boyfriend over. Ew. I'd be scarred for life. So choosing to not claw my own eyes out I politely excused myself when he arrived and meandered a bit through the city until coming to a bar which I would have ignored, except a familiar bass line from the music met my ears. I weighed my options; one, head off to the plaza and look at the water while trying to ignore couples sucking the faces off each other, or two, get plastered while listening to surprisingly decent music. Option two sounded best.
It seemed I wasn't the only one with an Option Two as I stepped inside, but we all ignored each other and I bee-lined for the empty bar counter.
"What can I get ya?" the bartender asked with a delicious Welsh accent. At least I assumed it to be Welsh. He was in Cardiff, he should be Welsh. Whatever. His accent made me happy to be single.
"I dunno," I sighed. "A beer?"
"What kind?" I think I was already getting on his nerves.
"Surprise me," I smiled. Yeah, I was. Me 0, Fate 1. God, losing sucks. He went off to retrieve my most-likely expensive mystery beer, returning and handing it over with a curt bruskness before finding someone else to entertain. Ouch much.
I gave another depressing sigh and took a hesitant sip, making a face at the shelves of bottles. Trust me to piss off the hot bartender every time. Hardly taking the bottles in I heard someone take a seat at the barstool next to me, and with a sideways glance saw a bloke in a white shirt with short spiked-ish black hair, letting his fingers linger against his own beer bottle.
"So what's a girl like you doing at a place like this on a day like today?" he asked casually, turning to eye me up as he took a swig. What the hell, did I forget to turn on the 'Piss off' sign attached to my back or something? I decided to behave. Sort of.
"Letting my roommate have her holy way with her boyfriend," I replied. If I ignored him maybe he'd go away. Hang on, accent--
"Ah," he winced, actually looking slightly apologetic. "That must be why you're drinking that, then?" he added, indicating my mystery beer. Yeah, accent. Shit.
"No, I'm drinking that because I pissed off the bartender," I corrected, and as I took another drink heard him seethe again. Damn courtesy. I turned to look at him before forcibly being polite, to see whom I addressed. He wasn't that hot, but he was certainly attractive, in a subtle charming sorta way. As I spoke he fixed me with black eyes.
"So what's a guy like you doing at a place like this on a day like today?" I inquired. He gave a hearty sigh.
"Avoiding an empty flat so I can avoid going back to work and possibly dealing with coworkers. Let's see--" he looked at his watch "-- My boss'll be screwing around with the tea boy, the newbie will pretend she's in love with her fiancee when she really wants my boss, and tech-- " He sighed again "-- tech'll be out on her date with some bloke she met last week. The same woman, I might add, who's had a crush on me for the past four years."
Ooh. Poor sod. "Alright, I'll quit complaining. You get the pity points for the day." I took another swig. "So what d'you think about this tech girl?"
"Huh?"
Good God, don't make me throw a pity party. "Tech girl. Crushing on you for four years, week-old date. What do you think about her?"
"Oh. She's alright," he shrugged. I fought the urge to strangle him.
"No, as in-- d'you like her? Crushing for four years, et cetera?" I pressed. Not going to jail, not going to jail...
"I s'pose," he shrugged again. Ooh, he's squirming, he soo likes her. I am so messed up... "I mean, working together for four years, barely having time to see anyone else, you can't help but respect them for how sharp they are in their work. I couldn't imagine anyone else'd be smart enough to figure out where a Weevil last sneezed..." He was rambling. And losing his mind already.
"What's a Weevil?" I asked. He swore.
"If I just... ask you to ignore that, would you? I really don't feel like following protocol right now."
"Sure," I replied hesitantly. God, he needed a woman.
He sighed. Seemed to be on a roll. "But when nerves crack, do I go to her? 'Course not. I go to Gwen, cos she can't keep herself together with tape and string, let alone work with us. Jesus, I should've left her... made her compare notes with Tosh, that would've been smart. She keeps her head under attacks, can hold her own," he declared, sounding proud. He doesn't just like her, he loves her, it's as plain as day.
"And does Tosh know any of this?" I demanded, and he turned on me.
"At my job, work and play can not mix," he deadpanned, and he looked like he meant it. "Throws you off guard, and it could kill you." He froze for a moment, gazing absently as if gripped by the past, but snapped out of it and rounded on me. "And what about you? Letting your roommate walk all over you when her man has a place of his own? Taking shit from a bartender when you're just trying to be nice, when you're on your own on today of all days? Stand up for yourself," he muttered, leveling out before falling silent. I was numb from the slap of his words, but he had a point. I was hopeless. I was a disgrace. I was-- "Sorry."
I sighed. "Me too."
He shook his head. "Some things you can't help. Some things are beyond your control even if you've practically got the world at your feet." He took a deep breath. "I'm scared shitless to tell her. I know she's finally getting over me, but if I tell her... that just throws everything around when it's just started to settle."
He fell silent again, and for a few minutes neither of us spoke, then I tilted my bottle towards his.
"To letting things run their course?"
He looked at the botthe, then at me. "To keeping your mouth shut." We clinked the glass, and before taking a sip I added "Cheers, mate."
"Owen."
"Alright," I replied, giving a half-smile. "Cheers, Owen. I'm Diane."