She never felt so stupid in her entire life. How could she have been so daft? The question just came out of her mouth uncontrollably without conscious thought, and the next thing she knew, that nice soldier—or marine, as the yank had called himself—left the pub without missing a beat. She wanted to hide behind a rock and stay there for a long, long time. Her first day on the job, and already she alienated a customer after she unsuccessfully tried to flirt with him. What a bloody cock up!

She sighed while mixing a cocktail, it was really hard not to and she couldn't help it. The yank was such a wonderful guy, and the fact that he hadn't tried to get into her pants the moment he saw her placed him favorably in her mind. Was she ever going to see him again? She hadn't even had the chance to ask for his name, and she probably never will. She couldn't stop staring at his baby blue eyes, the way it wrinkled every time he smiled, his chiseled jaw, small nose, his short brown hair that looked uncannily similar to her own, mixed with his stubble that made him look absolutely good-looking.

The yank also had a smooth facial complexion, but the wound on the bridge of his nose almost made her fail to notice it. Most—if not all—women find scars extremely attractive, and she was surprised that she found herself being one of them. It took a lot of willpower not to stare at it, and she at least had the decency not to ask how he got it.

Just like the same one I used when I asked him what war was like…

She groaned inwardly. She was such an insensitive arse, and she couldn't forget how his face became all despondent, undoubtedly thinking about all the terrible things he had seen and done in the service of his country. A true patriot to what he believed in. Her guardian was one such man, and she could lovingly remember that tough Northerner who, like him, didn't talk much about his extensive tours of duty during his time as a commando in the Royal Marines. Maybe he and that yank shared the same horrible experiences, which only made her feel more awful for treading deep into his personal life.

Still, she just wished that she could go turn back time, and take back what she had said to him a few hours ago. Who knows, if she had avoided airing his dirty laundry, maybe they would've taken off from there and gotten to know each other better. It was more of a miracle for that to happen now. Two months. Two months since she'd last had a relationship with another guy, and it ended horribly. She totally regretted her brief time together with Dan, and she wasn't even sure if it was a relationship. She even forgot the reason why she liked him in the first place, and it still troubled her greatly that the guy was her first boyfriend.

Well, what's done was done. She made a terrible mistake and she would never see that yank again; that gorgeous, wonderful and courteous yank. She tried picturing herself together with him, how they would have the most amazing dates which would end spectacularly, with her kissing him so deeply that it would make her knees weak from the intense euphoria that was sure to come. How could she not? Those lips of his seemed all so…

"Excuse me, miss." She snapped back to reality. Looking ahead of her, a middle-age man, who sported semi-casual clothes and crooked teeth, broke her out of her wild thoughts.

"Yes, how may I be of service?" She asked him politely.

"Can I get a glass of Jameson, please? Two fingers, no ice." She nodded, and she immediately turned about to the shelves filled with dozens of assorted alcohol bottles, trying to find the requested brand of Irish whisky. It didn't take long before she finally grabbed the bottle, filled a clear glass with the appropriate amount of liquor, then handing it over towards the patron. The man said his thanks and proceeded to return to his table packed with his half-drunk friends, who were cheering for their man as if he won the Premier League trophy.

The pub was certainly filled with a lot of customers today, and they were getting rowdier with each passing minute. She just hoped that it wouldn't get any worse for her first shift here tonight, the last thing she needed was for Jack to come to her rescue for failing to subdue these people. She couldn't afford to fail and get fired on her first job, not now, seeing as how she wanted to earn her own way towards paying for her education and more. And she would most definitely see this through.

The crowd cheered loudly, and she looked over to the focal point of their somewhat undivided attention. The telly was showing off a match between Arsenal and Norwich City, with the former having just scored a goal against the opposing team. The tally was 4-2 with only five minutes left on the clock; the audiences from both the stadium and the pub were hanging on the edge of their seats with each passing second. She wasn't really a huge fan of the sport and she looked away, preferring to keep on working instead by cleaning the surface of the countertop with a rag.

The old-fashioned bell attached to the door rang, its hollow sound just barely noticeable, as the loud commotion from the various groups of customers made it almost impossible to hear. Another one must've entered the establishment, and she didn't have the time to take a look at the newcomer as a different customer requested an additional round of drinks for his buddies.

So she worked away, grabbing the necessary glasses from the overhead racks, filling them with a variety of beer, then handing them out to the waiting patron; who gingerly grabbed the tray-filled drinks and passed her a twenty-pound banknote as payment. It was a bit hard work, being a bartender and all, and she had to remind herself again that she needed this job because of its good pay and generous tips. She could do this.

She grabbed a towel underneath the countertop to wipe off some beer splatter that soaked her hands, the scent of it completely bombarding her nostrils. Now she had to attend to the new arrival before he, or she, might—

Her heart sank downwards in her stomach, and the butterflies inside it were fluttering uncontrollably. He was here, he was really here. Was she hallucinating? She blinked several times to see if she was, but he was still there. He was real, and her chest kept on thumping to remind her she was pretty much nervous. Still, she couldn't help but smile.

But something seemed wrong. He looked so miserable, and with the way his shoulders were sagging, it must've been something awful. Could she be the one responsible for that?

Her heart paced even more. It was certainly a possibility, but she would've known it a while back when the yank said his goodbyes. As much as she remembered, there wasn't any malicious tone in his farewell; at least, none that she's known about.

Still, she's never seen anyone this crestfallen before, his eyes were just conveying an unprecedented amount of sadness that was just too heartbreaking to see. The yank sat on the edge of the bar, hands just clasped together right in front of him as he just stared into nothingness.

A huge part of her just wanted to go to him and give the poor yank a big hug to comfort him, to tell him that everything was going to be alright and to just let it out. But it wouldn't be proper, and as much as she wanted to take away his grief, it wasn't her place. It's not like she was his girlfriend or anything.

So she did the only thing she can do.

"Hey, can I get you something?"

"Guinness," he said to her without averting his gaze, voice barely even a whisper. She just nodded and wordlessly proceeded to fill out a glass of beer and giving it to him.

It was surprising to say the least, seeing how fast he emptied his glass in just a few gulps. Five hundred sixty-eight milliliters of alcohol just downed in less than four seconds flat. Whatever the poor man has been through, he must want to forget it so badly, as he mildly slammed the empty glass in front of him.

"Another." He croaked, and she went to do the same thing again.

By the time he finished his third beer, she was a bit concerned as to where this might lead. When he expended his fourth, that concern started to grow exponentially. On his way to consuming his fifth glass, she was starting to consider the notion of cutting him off.

She could already spot the telltale signs of the man already on the verge of becoming hammered. He was already swaying from side to side, his skin now becoming extremely flushed as his eyes lazily looked further ahead of him, losing its previously alert luster.

"Ma'am," he said to her softly, his speech becoming slurred as he put his glass down on the countertop gently, "can you tell me where the phones here are?"

The stunned her for a moment. What was he going to do now? Drunk call someone he knew and say something he might thoroughly regret? She racked her brain for a few milliseconds. A huge part of her was curious of what had caused him to be this way, and another part wanted to ask why he was acting this way. So against her better judgment, she wanted to find out who in their right mind would cause this wonderful man to get extremely pissed up.

"The landlines here are currently inoperable at the moment," which was true, seeing as how Jack had wanted to upgrade the phone lines to today's standard. Those bloody things were almost as ancient as this place. In front of her, the yank looked painfully disheartened with the news, and she added, "but you could use my phone if you like."

What the bloody hell are you doing? Her mind screamed at her. She wasn't really thinking straight at the moment, and she usually wasn't like this when it came to men, as she prided herself for her calm sense of control. But there was just something about him, something that made her want to lower her guard and open up to him. If she thought about it that much, she knew it sounded really silly. But in all respects, she just really wanted to help this poor yank out as best as she could, trying to ignore the fact that she was obviously attracted to him.

"Wouldn't…wouldn't want to impose ma'am," he lethargically said to her, and positioned himself to stand up while fumbling to grab his wallet. "I should just use those phone booths outside."

"It's no trouble at all," she insisted, trying to keep her voice steady as she grabbed her iPhone from her pants pocket, presenting it to him with an open palm. She added a smile to reassure him.

He looked at the smartphone for a few seconds (which seemed like an eternity), then shrugged and returned to his seat, grabbing the offered cell phone.

"If you're sure," he said, before facing her with those dazzling blue eyes of his and smiling indolently. "thank you."

The butterflies in her stomach fluttered even more as they did their thing upon seeing the yank's smile. She swore to herself in her thoughts. This was completely and utterly ridiculous! She wasn't some lovesick school girl, she was a woman dammit! And by God she'll like act like one. She tried to suppress those damned feelings in her abdomen, but it only seemed to worsen. Damn it.

The yank tried to type the number in the screen interface, but she heard him curse quietly as he fumbled in his task.

"Friggin' touchscreens." He tried typing in the number again. As he sluggishly tapped each of the digits, he stopped in mid-press; looking upwards as he tried to remember the number he was dialing.

He must've been successful, as she saw him pressed the mobile in his right ear while his facial features seemed to express a substantial amount of sorrow. This was it, she was finally going to find out what had happened that made the yank decide to drink into oblivion.

"Hey…it's Mike." He kindly said into the phone, leaning his elbows into the countertop. So that's what his name was, at least it spared her the expense of asking for it awkwardly. She liked how the name was fitting for a warm person like him. Michael. She quickly brushed that thought aside. Did the person on the other end answer? "This is probably the last time I'm going to call you, so I'm glad you're not there to answer it." Well, apparently they weren't.

"Anyways," he continued on, his face still frozen in unhappiness. "just wanted to let you know that I just arrived here on England a few hours ago, hoping to surprise you and all. But, turns out I was the one who had the surprise of my life." He tried blinking rapidly, as if trying to stave off the tears that were sure to come. All of a sudden, she didn't want to hear the rest of this call anymore. "So I saw you with your guy today, he's really a catch. I could tell that you really liked him. The way you looked at his eyes, the way you embraced him, and the way you kissed him…" He exhaled, looking down on the ground beneath his stool. "See, I know all this…because you used to do those things with me a few months back, when I thought I was still your guy."

She wanted to block out her hearing so she wouldn't have to overhear where this was all going, fighting off her own tears from spilling. Nobody deserved to feel the way Mike was feeling right now, and she became infuriated at the unknown woman who had the audacity to break a loving heart such as his.

"To sum it all up…I just wanted to say that I hope you're happy with him. That's all." He disconnected the call and handed the phone back to her. "Thank you."

"No problem." She took the phone and pocketed it.

"Can I…can I have another glass, please?"

"I'm not entirely sure that's a good idea…" She drifted off as she suddenly became the pivotal mark of his somewhat determined gaze, his eyes just pleading helplessly for her to accept his request. She could feel her resolve crumbling under the sight of his intense vulnerability.

"Please ma'am…I just…" He looked away, trying to collect his thoughts to explain why she would give him another drink. "I just want to forget, even if it's only for a day…"

Every instinct she had told her not to give him another round, but he was so devastated and emotionally exposed that her heart was practically flooding with extreme sympathy. She didn't know what else to do, so she just nodded and silently grabbed another glass from the rack, pulling the tap to gradually fill the container with the famous Irish beer.

"Thank you, ma'am." He answered as she handed him his drink, slowly lifting the glass up to chug its contents. How was she going to stop herself from giving him another? For the first time since she arrived here, she wished Jack was here to help her out in a position like this. The old man would certainly know how to deal with this kind of situation.

Mike was halfway through his eighth consecutive beer when the door behind her opened, revealing the welcoming sight of Jack taking off his coat and hat.

"The cooks are tellin' me you're doin' a mighty fine job, girl." The pub's owner happily said to her as he approached, his hands on the process of putting on a bar apron on his waist. He was about to congratulate her before she cut him off.

"Thank God you're here." she told him, minimizing her voice so that the yank couldn't hear. Jack warily looked at her.

"Why, what's goin' on?"

"I can't get him to stop drinking," she looked at Mike worriedly before continuing, "if he doesn't, who knows what might happen."

"Don't worry, lass." The Scotsman tried to assure her, "I'll take it from here, now you go home and—"

"Oy! What do we 'ave here?"

Both of them turned their heads towards the source of the commotion. Seeing two drunken Englishmen who she knew from earlier, now hovering on both sides of the yank. Mike just ignored them and continued on drinking his beer.

"So what gives ya the right to come here and drink our beer, huh? Ya murdering bastard!" Jack was on his way to break up the scuffle when the unthinkable happened. The first drunk grabbed a fistful of Mike's shirt collar and socked him square in the jaw, dropping the glass he was holding as it broke into dozens of pieces upon hitting the ground, splashing the floor with beer. He fell from his stool, struggling to get up from his drunken state as the two encircle him. Suddenly everyone in the bar turned quiet and gasped. The second drunk had a bottle in hand and smashed it into the bar countertop, converting it into a makeshift weapon.

"That's enough! Both of you!" Jack shouted as he exited the counter top through a side door.

"This ain't your fight, old man." The first drunken twat responded. "We're going to show this, 'soldier', why he needs to be punished for murdering innocent civi—" he didn't get to finish his sentence as Mike unleashed a vicious left hook, knocking him down to the ground as the wanker landed on the pile of broken glass from earlier. The man cursed out loudly as his hands became bloodied with deep gashes.

"You'll pay for that!" The second sloshed bastard screamed as he lunged at him with the broken bottle. Her heart stopped, fear immobilizing her from doing anything other than gape in horror at what was happening right in front of her. The yank just stood there, hands at the side as the hostile figure came charging towards him. Move, damn it!

Mike just effortlessly evaded the attack, just swaying his body until the arm was just across from his muscled form. He grabbed the man's wrist hard, eliciting a pained scream from the fellow as he redirected his momentum towards the bar, with another hand snaking itself on the back of the guy's head—smashing it forcefully on the countertop.

The crowd reacted with another gasp as the assailant stood from the recent blow to the head, just standing for a few moments before he fell on his back with a loud thud, completely unconscious. Everyone inside just became silent with what just happened—then erupting into a loud cheer as their merry voices resonated around the pub.

The marine stumbled as he tried walking, grabbing a stool to support himself as he brought a hand to his head, the sudden movements must've hastened his inebriation. Several patrons moved near Mike and congratulated him for knocking those idiots out, patting him in his shoulders and offering to buy his next few drinks. With the way he was struggling to walk and stand, he wouldn't be drinking anytime soon.

Jack shooed the cheering customers away as he helped Mike sit down on a stool, after which he cleaned up some of the broken glass fragments and grabbed something metallic with a chain lying on the floor.

"You need to get out of here, lad." The old man told Mike as he cleaned the ground.

"But…I haven't paid my bill yet—" he hiccupped, "—let me just get my…"

"It's on the house, kid. Now move along." Jack faced her. "Help him get a cab or something, then go home. You've done a good job today, lass." He nodded approvingly as he handed her something with an open palm.

A pair of dog tags along with a ring of some sorts attached to it. It must've fallen off from Mike when he was punched by that lumbering idiot a while ago. She took it before she grabbed her jacket and helped the yank on his feet.


He was extremely heavy, and she struggled to support him as they trekked on the paved concrete sidewalks of Gower Street. Based on what she got from him a few minutes ago, he was staying at Ridgemount Hotel in room twenty-two from the second floor. She knew where that place was, and she hoped that her ridiculously low upper-body strength would hold until they get there.

"You…don't have to do this ma'am…" he slowly muttered as he walked drunkenly beside her with his arm around the back of her neck. "I can…walk on my own."

"I beg to differ," she grunted while she tried her best to guide him along the path. "you shouldn't have drank that many beers."

"Couldn't help it…just wanted to forget, how painful it was…seeing her with another guy…"

"Well, what she did was wrong. You deserved better."

"You're so sweet…" He told her cheerfully as he staggered in his gait. "Boyfriend must be a lucky guy…"

I wish. Her experience with Dan made her want to forget about relationships in general. Well, almost. She looked at him as his face was locked in a drunken smile staring out ahead, and she couldn't help but beam at the sight of that.

It didn't take long before they arrived in the hotel's front entrance; where a nearby doorman assisted her in taking him off her hands. Thank God. Any minute longer and she would've collapsed from sheer exhaustion from carrying the heavily muscled marine. They walked through two flights of stairs before they arrived in his room, thanking the polite employee before he took his leave.

The room itself was small, where there was only a single-mattress bed in the corner with a single window overlooking the street, accompanied by a small television set and a compact electric fan hovering above the bed. She set Mike down on the soft cushion as she proceeded to remove his shoes and socks. The yank tried to stop her, his calloused hands grabbing her delicate fingers with a gentle touch.

"Ma'am, you've done more than enough. I can do—"

"It's perfectly alright," she comfortingly said to him as she removed the last sock. "why don't you lie down and rest?"

"I'm not really tired yet, ma'am." He looked right into her eyes, and she found herself unable to look away. "I…thank you, ma'am. For everything that you've done…"

"Don't worry about it." She answered back with a smile. They just stared at each other, not knowing for how long as she felt herself being lost, just gazing intently into those deep blue orbs of his.

She was just towering over him as she stood in front of the man, who was sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands on top of his lap. Standing just a foot apart, she closed off the space between them slowly, her hands gently stroking both his cheeks as the stubble's rough texture tickled her fingers. She could feel him tense up because of her touch, and she heard him gulp audibly as his stare never wavered.

All semblance of control was starting to fade away; her desires within her were increasing radically, vainly fighting a losing battle with herself for the urge to just kiss him passionately. This was utterly mad, and she knew it. This wasn't her that was taking the lead, but another part of her that she didn't know had existed…until now.

She was always so stoic and unwavering when it came to her approach in life, whether it was in school, her relationships, her friends, everything. She was usually in control with whatever came her way ever since she lost her parents nine years ago. At that time, it was a necessity. To protect herself; from all those unpredictable threats that were lying in wait out there, just ready for the time when she'd slip up so they could take full advantage of her vulnerability.

Now, with him though, it made her feel reckless, to move and think without calculating the possible risks of doing this and that. In short, she was being the exact opposite of who she really was. And she liked it. No more walls and defenses. It was happening all so fast, and she honestly didn't care. There was only one thing left to do.

She leaned in, her head coming closer and closer until she felt her mouth connect with his. He gave out a small sound of surprise, his muscles became stiff with shock, rigid, and she could feel his body going further taut as her tongue plunged boldly into his mouth; parting his lips to sweep for something that was just underneath the line of his teeth.

A few seconds later, he finally reciprocated her kiss as he placed his hands on her back, wrapping her small feminine frame in a tight embrace that promised so much warmth and support.

She further pressed her body against him, her sizeable breasts flattening against his broad chest as she threw her arms around his neck, further deepening the kiss. Her heart was already racing, her breath quickening while her knees grew weak as her tongue consistently clashed with his in a never-ending battle for supremacy. The taste of him was completely intoxicating. She moaned loudly as the heat of his touch became completely exhilarating as she felt his hands carry her legs.

He positioned her limbs to straddle him as he broke contact from their passionate lip-lock, caressing her neck as he swirled his velvety tongue all along the length of her throat, which only served to further increase her excitement. She gasped, arching her back as her hands pulled his head closer to her.

His slow, teasing strokes on her senses only aided to torment her. She wanted more, so much more, and she was done being passive. So she started to unbutton his shirt and tried to take it off his shoulders.

His hands caught her wrists, and he stopped his dizzying assault on her neck as he looked at her, eyes clouded with desire.

"Wait…what're we doing?" He breathlessly said to her. She wanted to growl out in frustration, but her self-control reined in on her immense arousal as her mind struggled to form a coherent sentence.

"Don't you want this, Mike?" She told him, capturing his lips as she slid her breasts over the expanse of his chest. They kissed fervently for a few more minutes until he broke it off again, both of them flushed and out of breath.

"It's not that…it's just…are you sure about this?"

"What makes you think I'm not?" She tenderly said to him as she touched his cheeks, her brown eyes looking at him as he looked away.

"I don't want to take advantage of you, ma'am…hell; I don't even know your name."

Then it her, like she was given a huge backhanded slap in her face. Good Lord, what the hell was she doing? She was so intent on being with him completely that she forgot why she was doing this in the first place. She couldn't believe it. Sex actually clouded her judgment, and she could feel her cheeks reddening further with mortification. If anything, she was beginning to act like her best friend.

And what he said about him talking advantage of her? He was wrong. It was actually the other way around, and the shame was finally starting to kick in as her head lay in the crook of his shoulder, burying her face further in his neck. She almost forgot about the fact that he just had his heart broken a few hours ago. Maybe her break up with Dan messed her up somehow, more than she'd care to admit.

"I'm sorry." She said to him quietly, her arms further tightening her hold in his neck.

"Don't be, ma'am." Mike tried to comfort her. "I'm hammered, and you're…well, I don't know…"

"Emotionally deranged?" She suggested as she pulled away from her embrace.

"Something like that." He said to her with a smile. "I guess…we're going a little bit too fast, huh?" She gave him a nod.

"Yeah, we are."

"Sooo…what now?"

She noted her completely awkward position on top of him and she stood up from his crotch, taking a seat next to him in the bed.

"I honestly don't know, I really wasn't thinking that much."

"Me too," he replied as he lied down on the bed with his hands behind his head, "I think I'm sobering up a bit. I should probably thank you for that, ma'am." She laughed heartily as she followed his example by lying down on the soft mattress.

"I can't believe I almost slept with you," she uttered without thinking, before realizing her mistake. "not that I don't want to, it's just—"

"It's okay ma'am, I get it." He assured her in an understanding tone. "Besides, we'd probably regret it in the morning."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly looking forward to the awkward talks and the walk of shame back to my flat." He chuckled, and she found the sound of it as sweet music to her ears. She turned her head to the left to look at him, his face just looking up in the ceiling.

"See? We just saved ourselves a lot of trouble, ma'am." He turned his head to look at her as well, his eyes blue sparkling from the moonlight coming from outside the window. "I just wished we met under different circumstances."

"Same here," she agreed as she finally decided to stand up from the bed. "I should probably go."

"Sure," he followed suit and buttoned his blue shirt. "I'll take you home."

"That won't be necessary, Michael. By the way, I almost forgot." she pulled the tags from inside her pocket and showed it to him with an outstretched hand. "Here, take it."

He eyed the military identification tags for a few moments before he shook his head, pushing her offered hand towards her with a ridiculous smile which she found alluring.

"Keep it, ma'am."

"What? But surely you'll need it—"

"I can always get another set of those, ma'am."

"What about the ring?" She asked, referring to his 2007 Harvard International Relations class ring attached to the dog tags' inner chain. She honestly hadn't expected him to have graduated from such a prestigious and respected university, and it only solidified her interest in him even further.

"That too, ma'am." He casually added.

"At least tell me why you're giving away such a precious item."

"Let's just say, it reminded me of a more innocent time, I suppose." He looked distant as he explained, a sad smile in place. "How naïve I was of the world, and how much I wanted to fix it." Mike wrapped his hand around hers and enclosed her open palm, the tags and ring inside of it. "I want you to have it."

"I…" She looked away from his distracting gaze, suddenly out of words from his heartwarming gesture. She liked him even more. Damn it, "I don't know what to say."

"I still haven't gotten your name." She smiled, placing a hand on top of his as she held it firmly.

"It's Lara. Lara Croft."


Tell me what you guys think. :)

-Rookie571