Chapter 2
For a woman who has never even been on a date or anything, going to a bar is a huge breakthrough, right?
Putting on my second- hand, thrift store bought, skintight dress and heels makes me squeal.
I can't believe how pretty I actually look.
Nerves are getting me now, as I walk into the Rusty Dawg Pub.
Suck it up, Bella
Walking to the end of the bar, with as much faux confidence and I can gather, I sit down and order the first drink that comes to my mind; a rum and coke.
Sipping on my drink, I notice his green eyes watching me from across the bar. He's wearing faded, ripped jeans with a form fitting black tee. He's wiping glasses with a towel, his hard, green gaze piercing into me.
Holy fucking shit.
He looks almost angry to see me. Who is this guy? I can feel the anger in me beginning to boil.
Feeling my liquid courage kicking in, I get up from my stool and walk his way.
I lean across the bar, giving him a good view of my decent sized tits.
His stare never wears.
I notice a silver bar running through his eyebrow and a ring in his bottom lip.
My ovaries just quivered.
"Hey buddy, you got an issue with me?" saying the boldest thing that I have ever spoke.
His eyebrows shoot up, but this glare quickly returns.
He leans forward, putting his elbows on the bar, getting scarily close to my face.
I can feel his warm breath on my face, mint and alcohol.
"The only problem I have, sweetheart is underage girls in my bar." He answered, still glaring.
Wow, this douche has no clue.
"Good thing I'm not underage," I say taking my ID and throwing it at him before shamefully running from the bar and down the street until I reach my tiny sanctuary.