Longest day of work. Followed by the longest train ride. Followed by pushing through a throng of thousands of people seemingly with all the time in the world when she was already twenty five minutes late to meet Mary for a drink. All topped off with a venmo and message from Mary right as she was finally sitting down on a barstool ordering her wine.
Sorry love, just got a massive order, going to be here all night. Have a glass of vino on me!
Lily rejected the venmo immediately, of course. Mary's bakery had just got off the ground and Lily knew how important orders were for her at that stage and there was no need to take her money. She'd drink her wine and get home in time for Bake Off reruns, not a bad day all in all. She signaled the bartender to close out her tab afterall and opened up Bumble. If she was going to sit here alone, might as well swipe on some potential matches.
"He's a loser."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"He's a loser." the man repeated, shifting fully to face her, leaning his side against the bar. She hadn't noticed him before but he must have been sitting somewhere along the bar.
"Who is?"
His glass was empty and even as his body was turned towards hers, his eyes remained focused on the bartender, signaling towards his glass and nodding towards her near empty one as well. It wasn't until the bartender had nodded back to him and begun to grab bottles that he turned to look into her eyes. Dark hazel, thick tortoise frames, tousled hair, beautifully chiseled jaw.
"Whatever sorry tosser left you sitting here on a barstool all by your lonesome."
"What exactly makes you think I'm here because of a boy? Can't a girl just go get a drink by herself?" she wrapped her fingers around the newly filled wine glass and avoided eye contact, taking a sip.
"I'll make you forget his name"
She spluttered into her drink and looked at him incredulously but he held her gaze steadfast, unwaveringly confident.
"You're pretty presumptuous, aren't you?"
"I prefer the term confident."
"Mmmm a narcissist's favorite excuse."
"You know what they say about narcissists,"
"That they'll never love another more than they love themselves?"
He scoffed, "Sure, or that it typically doesn't come unearned."
"Not only is that literally not a saying but what I have heard is that lying to yourself can be even worse than narcissism. Causes premature wrinkles."
"Please, look at us. Barely a wrinkle between the pair."
"That's because I'm honest. Never told a lie."
"Now is that so?"
"Yep." She punctuated the p sharply, smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she leaned back in her chair.
"So now if I were to ask if you were attracted to me, you'd have no choice but to tell me the truth," he leaned in closer, eyes sparkling down at her.
"Now see, I don't lie," she dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned in closer, "but my mother also taught me that if I don't have anything nice to say, I shouldn't say anything at all. So perhaps it's better if I bite my tongue on that one."
He laughed earnestly, warmly, head thrown back in a way that filled her with immediate satisfaction, warmth spreading across her chest.
"Wow. Beautiful, clever, and cruel. You really were made for me, weren't you? C'mon now, loosen that quick tongue for just a second. Tell me what you really think."
She leaned back in her chair and made a show of looking him up and down, eyes slowly trailing his entire figure. He practically loomed over her as he remained standing, leaning closer and closer down over her seated figure. And damn if he wasn't ridiculously fit. And exactly her type. Dark blue button down tight across his shoulders, sleeves sinfully rolled up to his elbows, seamlessly pressed grey trousers.
"Well, if I were to speak purely objectively," he leaned in closer and nodded.
"You're pretty fit." His entire face lit up, pleased and smug, whole body shifting slightly closer to her as she leaned in closer. "Shame about the personality, though. Really ruins the whole vibe."
He threw his hands over his heart and winced, "You wound me, deeply."
"You asked! Don't ask for the truth if you can't take it, another lesson from my mother."
"Well you can blame my mother for my inability to take criticism. While yours taught you sensible things like to only say the nicest and most truthful and deeply hurtful things, mine taught me that I had invented and then hung the moon and therefore the rest of the world existed because and for me."
"Poor woman, she must have been deluded early on. A face only a mother could love and what not."
"Prefer to think it's the 'what not' part of it all. Speaking of mothers, fancy becoming one?"
She choked on her drink. He patted halfheartedly in between her shoulders - and no she did not notice how his hand was so big it spanned practically completely across her shoulders and why is that even attractive? - and passed her a napkin.
"I don't mean tonight, of course, if that's what you've stopped breathing over," his pats turned to a light rub along her back. "I just thought maybe you'd like some additional practice."
Her eyes narrowed as she regained control over her breathing and she twisted in her chair, forcing his hand to drop off her back, immediately missing the contact.
"I don't go home with presumptuous and cocky boys." Her words were biting, although traitorous butterflies were still running rampant in her stomach from their brief point of contact.
"Well, do you go to dinner with them?" His tone turned polite, mild even, as if they were discussing the weather and he hadn't just offered to father a child with her. "Or maybe lunch or coffee? Coffee might be more the cocky guy from the bar date but really I'm partial to dinner."
"Are you pleased with this turn of conversation?" she spat through gritted teeth, "Seriously, are you happy with how you've handled this?"
"I'm talking to you so I'm happy. And I'm happy I said whatever I said that gave you this lovely flush you have now," his finger traced up from her neck to brush her cheek lightly as if tracing the blush, sending tingles shooting down her spine.
He caught her eye and her mouth went dry. Deep hazel, flickered with gold, filled with something that looked eerily close to hunger.
"I'm James, by the way. I feel like we might be on a first name basis now that I've asked you to join me for essentially every kind of meal."
"Charmed, really," she waved two fingers towards the bartender until he nodded in acknowledgement and moved to pour her another drink and ignored the traitorous conscience in the back of her brain screaming that she was only meant to be here for one.
"This is usually when you'd tell me your name, if you're new to this," he had leaned down to whisper the words in her ears, hot breath on her ear, one inch closer and his lips would be on her.
She chewed on her lip momentarily, hearing Mary's voice screaming louder and louder in her head about letting loose as it spoke over the whispering voice of her mother reminding her that this was a strange man.
"Evans. Lily Evans," she spoke into her drink and took a deep swig.
"Evans. I like it."
She scoffed at him, eyes narrowing in on him instantly, "so glad you approve."
"I do, really. Lily Evans. Rolls off the tongue, truly. But you know what might sound even better?"
He sat down on the barstool next to her now - finally, a voice in her head whispered as they were now perfectly aligned eye to eye - and tugged it closer to sit closer to her own. She tilted her head slightly, silently requesting he continue.
"Potter. Lily Potter."
Her eyes narrowed instantly, "and I suppose Potter is what, the name of a good friend of yours?"
"I do consider my father a good friend so yes, I suppose in a way."
"Dinner, a child, marriage. You're really willing to commit to living a full life with a random girl in a bar. For all you know I could be a murderer. A serial killer. A lying, nefarious, arsonist with a family in three different counties wreaking havoc and crime along the countryside." His eyes never wavered from hers as she ranted, crinkling in the corners, drinking her in and practically sparkling.
"What can I say, Miss. Evans, I trust my gut. And my gut says that if you truly are a lying, nefarious, philandering woman with likely multiple warrants out for her arrest, well then I guess I'll be the Clyde to your Bonnie."
Their heads were barely two inches apart, she could feel the warmth of his breath as his hand ghosted along to cover her own that rested on the bartop.
"Alright then, Clyde." The words came out as a faint whisper, "You'll probably be needing my number then. To organize our crime spree and what not."
His grin overtook his face, eyes somehow turning more beautiful as they sparkled at her, "and what not, yes I think that's for the best."
She turned away from him and reached into her purse fishing out a pen, not allowing herself to think through her actions or words for another second, lest she hesitate. She scribbled her number on a paper coaster and stood up before turning to look at him, just barely taller than him for the first time that night. He sat there, perfectly patient, quieter than he had been all night.
She passed the coaster to him wordlessly, a fresh blush flaming up the back of her neck as his hand brushed hers to take the coaster and held her hand, not letting her pull back just yet. "It's been a pleasure, Bonnie."
"Likewise, Clyde."
She squeezed his hand once before slipping away and out the door without another look, knowing that just seeing his face again would make her go back and go home with him that night instead of waiting for his call.
She had walked two doors down from the bar when her phone began to vibrate in her purse. She fished it out and pressed it against her ear while hailing a cab, assuming it was Mary checking in.
"Hello?"
"Go to dinner with me tomorrow night, Bonnie." She almost dropped her phone in surprise at the deep voice that was decidedly not Mary.
"Don't know," She croaked out, "I thought coffee was the more appropriate meal for a cocky stranger in a bar."
He chuckled lightly, "Maybe. But we're not really strangers anymore are we? I even know your name now."
"Alright then," she breathed out as a cab pulled up, "dinner it is. It's a date."
She hung up without hearing his reply, swinging herself into the cab. She looked down at her phone's call log, considering saving his contact when a Bumble alert came through with a match.
She didn't hesitate, without looking at the match she deleted the app entirely.