BPOV
I sit down at the bar and go to order a drink.. "what can I get for you babe?", she says to me. I've been coming to this place at least a couple times a week for months now and I was certain that I'd never seen this woman here before. I'm convinced I would have remembered her face.
"Miss?" She said bringing me out of my haze. "Oh, sorry." I say with slight embarrassment, still a little taken aback by the beauty in front of me. "I'll have a Blue Moon please." "No problem.", she laughs with a wink.
This little pixie of a bartender was quite the sight to see. Standing not much taller than five feet with a petite, slim, and slender build, relatively short, jet black spiky hair and a smile so beautiful it could light up the world, could you blame me for being a little disoriented? But it was her amber eyes that took my breath away. They seemed so deep, warm and inviting I felt as if I could look at them for hours and never become disinterested or bored.
She set down my beer in front of me with a small thud that caused me to once again be pulled away from my thoughts. I mustered up the courage to speak plainly, "So how come I've never seen you here before?", I ask. "I started two days ago.", she said. "I just moved here from Alaska with my family." "Oh I see." I laughed. "So you needed a change of scenery?" "Well it is an improvement, At least the summers aren't an optical illusion here. It's also much more fast-paced, and to top it off I get to meet all sorts of interesting people.", she said with a wink.
I noticed the after-work crowd was beginning to trickle in. She looked around for a moment then back to me and asked, "So stranger, are you going to stick around for a little while?" "That was the plan.", I say with a smile, while trying to remain as cool and collected as possible. "Good, I'll just keep checking on you. Perhaps we can go somewhere and chat when I get off work in a couple hours?" "Absolutely.", I say a bit too quickly. She starts to turn and greet the patrons. "Hey! I didn't get your name.", I call out to her. "Alice.", she says as she extends her hand out to me. I take her hand in mine and with a gentle shake and reply, "Isabella, but please, call me Bella." "Isabella.", she says, as if in thought. "Italian for Beautiful." I laugh at her comment and become slightly bashful, "Yea, I know my name doesn't quite match my personality." She paused and looked at me with a slightly mischievous smile and a raised eyebrow and replied, "That, dear Bella is where you are wrong," as she turned to go and greet other newly arriving patrons.