"Hey Luke," she appears flustered as she grabs the stool next to him, "I need help fact checking a story."
"I'm not sure how I can help, but I'll try," he smiles taking a moment to look her over.
"Its about you," she signals abruptly to the bartender.
"Me? What about me?"
"How sad and lonely your life has turned out to be since you left."
"What the hell?" he frowns standing up from the bar, "nevermind."
She places her hand on his, "I'm joking."
He sits and takes a long drink as the bartender approaches with her drink.
She waits for him to break the silence using his response time to accurately rate just how upset he really is.
"You are a piece of work, you know that?"
She nods and takes a sip of her drink, "I'm having trouble writing a scene for my new book based off of you."
He laughs, "Since when are you a writer?"
"Since business is slow. Now can you please focus?"
He shakes his head, "Alright what's the premise?"
"Premise? No, there's no time for all that. I don't know what you would do in the character's current situation so I am stuck."
"What's the situation?"
She downs the drink and laughs.
"What?"
"He meets up with his former lover and she makes a move."
He signals the bartender for another round as he finishes his drink, "I guess it depends on how he feels about this girl. Who is she?"
"A mistake."
The drinks arrive and he raises his glass in the air, "To mistakes."
She raises her glass and takes a drink intrigued, "I mean how would she know how he feels about her anyway?"
He moves in close and smiles sweetly, "She'd know."
"Right," she ponders his words as she takes another sip, "Just so I'm clear, good sex is a determining factor on how you feel, right?"
"Maybe," he flirts remembering how much fun it was to fuck this woman.
"How many women have you slept with since I saw you last?"
He coughs choking on an ice cube at her question, "Jesus Jessica, ask me what you really want to know."
"I'm serious."
"What do you care? You're the one who told me to leave."
"I don't care!" She shouts slamming her glass on the counter breaking it. "Shit."
"Let me see," he offers his hand gently.
"Fuck you, no."
"You want to know if I care about you, right?"
She nods looking down.
"Then give me your hand."
She slowly places her hand in his. He surveys the cuts and removes three shards from her palm. She winces in pain. Grabbing a napkin off the stack he applies pressure to her wounds. He slowly inches closer to her face studying her expression as she watches the blood soak through the white cloth. He stops inches from her lips.
"Still not sure what I would do in this situation?" he inquires sweetly.
"Maybe," she breathes softly crossing the distance between them for a tender kiss. Remembering her resolve she quickly pushes him away, "To be clear, this is not me making a move."
He laughs surprised by his delight in her outburst. Who was she kidding?
"Shut up," he commands kissing her passionately and for the first time without reservation.