Now that I'm fully inspired, I've spent a lot of time working on this little tale. The intro is short, but chapters will be longer. It's different than my usual style, as the flow isn't so structured. I really hope you enjoy it, reviews are amazing.
xoxo,
littleredwritinggleek
He's lived in New York City his entire life, but he's never seen a girl like her before. Blonde waves flowing from a black fedora, a curve hugging strapless number slipped over her thin frame. He hears the click of her heels and his heart stops as he looks up from behind the counter, the chime of the door fading.
She's fucking gorgeous.
He keeps his eyes focused on the bottles behind the bar, secretly watching as she strides over and slides onto a stool, crossing her legs. The smell of cigarettes and vanilla perfume fills the air, and it's intoxicating.
Puck leans forward on his elbows.
"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this, Blondie?" Sure, he's being smooth, but he honestly has to wonder. She's hot as hell but looks fragile at the same time, like china. The bar is old, smokey, lit by a neon sign. In fact, if it wasn't tucked away on the street where it was, he knew that people would complain about it being an eyesore.
She mimics his posture, inching towards him. Hazel eyes rimmed in black peer up at him, and he's smitten, drawn into the gold-flecked fires in front of him. A thousand more questions flood his mind.
"I wasn't sure, until now." Her red lips form the words slowly, her soft voice oozing sex.
He pours her a shot.
"I don't think that you are. But I'll be glad to help you out." He says, sliding the small glass towards her. He's curious to see if she can even handle the alcohol.
She slams in down in the most graceful way he's ever seen anyone take a shot. Her tongue glides over the rim, licking the remains of the liquid. Tipping her hat back coolly, she sighs, as if they're playing a game and she's just lost.
"I'm too much of that kind of girl." She admits, staring at her empty glass. The change in her demeanor is sudden, and he wonders why she feels like she can say anything to him at all. Most importantly, he wonders why it feels so natural to listen.
The girl in front of him looks vulnerable, and he can't help but try to figure out why.
"Always getting your heart broken?" He means for it to sound mocking, because, like he'd ever invest in someone's feelings. But it sounds soft, caring actually. He finds himself sitting on a stool behind the counter. The place is practically empty, just like it is every night. Sometimes, he wonders how it even stays open. It's one of the reasons that he initially found it odd for her to even walk in.
"Yeah, something like that." She pauses, contemplating what to say next. "Any by now, I'm damaged goods." Her eyes are downcast, and it's like she's letting him in on secret and after secret that she's never told anyone before.
He nods. Normally he doesn't do this, talk to girls like this, but he can't help it. Puck's captivated by her in every way.
"I understand that." He offers.
"You'd only break my heart.", she says, eying him.
"There's a lot you don't know about me."
She digs through her small bag and sets a few bills on the counter as she gets up. He watches her, willing her to stay, give him her name, number, something. She's giving him feelings he can't shake, ones he's never experienced before and thus can't name or describe. His eyes follow her to the door, watching her leave. She pauses as she opens it, halfway into the cool, dark night. Her slim frame turns toward him, an air of mischievous light cast in her eyes.
"I'd like to find out."
The door chimes as it closes. And with that, she's gone.