The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25 dot com
Prompt: #8
Pen Name: Chocaholic123
Pairing/Character(s): Bella / Rose / Alice / Edward
Rating:M
Word Count: 500
Photo prompts can be found here:
thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts
"Did you know women over forty are more likely to be killed by terrorists than get married?" Rose walks back from the bar and sits on a high stool. "I'm more likely to die of gunshot wounds than walk up a goddamned aisle." Her words are bitter as our drinks are sweet.
"You're thirty two, Rose." Alice shakes her head. "You've eight years before you need to worry about that."
Rose sighs. "I'm going to grow old and ugly and die from sexual frustration." The cute bartender brings over a tray of cocktails. A Mojito for Rose, a Manhattan for Ali, and a Cosmo for me. Rose snatches hers up and knocks it back, slamming the empty glass onto the wood. She's on a one way journey to hangover hell.
"That statistic about terrorists isn't true." I sip my drink. It's sweet, strong and a little bit sticky. "You can look it up on Snopes. And if the worst happens, you can always hope for a little Stockholm Syndrome."
Rose sighs loudly. "I'm telling you, Bella, you should study this stuff. I won't make the same mistakes I made with Royce."
Alice catches my gaze and makes a silly face, rolling her eyes dramatically. I bite down a grin, trying to look interested as Rose launches into another lecture on relationships.
"I should never have agreed to see him on Mondays," she continues. "Statistically, that's the worst day for break ups. That and Valentine's day."
"What happens when Valentine's falls on a Monday?" Alice can barely disguise the humor in her voice. I cough down a laugh, trying to disguise it as a hiccup, and fail miserably.
"Laugh all you want," Rose replies huffily. "But don't come crying to me when you're both old maids."
"I'm seventy-nine percent sure I won't." I stand up and walk over to the bar. I'm unusually happy it's my round; I get a break from Rose and a chance to flirt with the sexy bartender. It's a win-win.
While I wait for service, I take the opportunity to enjoy the silence, reminding myself that Rose isn't normally so bad. She's taken the break up with Royce pretty hard. It's knocked her confidence, and her only way to feel better about things is to analyze them to death.
"What can I get you?" The bartender leans on the counter, eyes twinkling as he gives me a half smile. His cheeks are dimpled, covered with a light layer of stubble and I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch him. I give him our order and he makes it up, mixing our drinks with an expert touch.
"Your friend seems pretty into statistics," he remarks, pushing the tray toward me. "Did you know that nine percent of relationships start at a bar?"
"What about the other ninety-one percent?" I ask.
He leans closer until our faces are inches apart, his proximity making me breathless. "I don't think we need to worry about them.
