1.
"Well, shit. Where are you Jess?" I mutter to myself, checking my phone for what feels like the hundredth time. No new messages to be found. As if it isn't embarrassing enough to be stood up, the fact that it's by my lab partner just makes this all feel even worse. I look through our previous messages to make sure I got the time and place right. Midnight Sun, Monday, at 1:30PM. It all checks out, except for the fact that she isn't here and I've been waiting for half an hour.
I scan the room again, trying to remember how she convinced me to meet up with her in a bar to work on our project. I take notice of the people around. It's not very crowded yet, likely because it's 2:00 PM on a Monday.
I sit. I wait. I look over my notes. I check my phone again. Still no messages, and it is now 2:19 PM on a Monday.
Considering it's almost an hour past our meet up time, I accept the fact that Jess isn't showing up. I take another sip of my water and begin outlining ideas for an upcoming essay. I figure I'm already settled in my spot, I might as well get some productivity from this. My thoughts are interrupted by the same voice who has been waiting on me since I've arrived.
"How's it looking, you ready for something a little stronger?" the bartender asks, motioning toward my drink.
I glance up, noting her annoyed look. "No, I'm good. Thank you." I keep it short. She probably thinks I'm cheap for not ordering anything. I don't blame her or her attitude. There's no way she knows that I have every intention of leaving a tip to make up for my lack of ordering.
She walks away without another word. I would feel guilty for taking up space, but there are literally only four other people sitting at the bar. I won't feel bad for taking up space that isn't needed. Plus, I have every intention of leaving a tip to make up for my time here, I remind myself as I take another sip of my water.
I begin to get back into the rhythm of my work. I pay no attention to the people around me, just as they pay no attention to me. I'm beginning to think that Jess was on to something suggesting doing homework at a bar. I feel at ease, enjoying the warm glow of the bar lights and the soft sounds of the background music. I don't check my phone anymore. I figure there's no point in stressing over my project with Jess at this moment, since she doesn't seem to be concerned.
Who am I kidding? I know that I'm stressed about it. I desperately want to check my phone, but will myself not to. I'm upset, and annoyed, and worried that our work won't get done in time. I try not to be this stressball of a person, but it's just something that I can't turn off.
At least, that's what I'm thinking until a laugh cuts off my spiraling thoughts. When I glance up, I'm met by sparkling green eyes and a handsome face. I try to look away, but my eyes are locked with his. His laughter has died down, but he is still smiling while Miss Bartender talks to him. I can't help but wonder what she said that he found so amusing. She looks over at me, and in that moment I know- she was talking about me. I can tell by the guilty look on her face, and how she quickly tries to hide away. Not him, though. He seems only more amused that I caught them.
Now I'm annoyed again. Now I'm not so sure that I'll be leaving a tip. I try to focus my attention back to my homework, but the magic of this place is ruined. I now know that Jess had no idea what she was talking about when she suggested meeting up here.
I'm about to start packing up my things when I feel his presence. I refuse to look up at him as I begin gathering my belongings.
"Oh no.. did you realize this isn't a Starbucks?" he feigns seriousness, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
I go against my better judgment and look up at him. Immediate regret. He's biting his lower lip, trying to hide his smile. It's not fair how handsome he is. I shouldn't have looked up because my annoyance has disappeared. He stands there, waiting, but I'm not sure for what.
He breaks the silence, again, "You know, I hear Mojitos go good with…" he peers over at my books, "organic chemistry."
This breaks the trance, "I was actually leaving."
"But my colleague over there," he points over his shoulder, "tells me you haven't had a drink."
"And what? Is there some rule that says 'All who come to a bar must drink alcohol?" I roll my eyes.
He leans forward, resting his hands on the counter, "That is the unofficial rule, yes." he's smiling again.
It might seem silly, but when I came to a bar to work on homework I never actually anticipated having alcohol. However, the way he's smiling at me is making it difficult to say no in this moment. I tell myself it's only one drink, there's no harm in one.
"A Mojito, you said?" I respond, sounding more unsure than I intended.
The smile he responds with assures me that I've made the right choice.
"Ok" he stands up straight and puts on a serious face, "but I'll have to see some I.D."
I'm taken aback. "Um, you were the one insisting I drink. Why would you do that if you weren't even sure I was at least 21?"
He shrugs. I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't. He just stands there, waiting for me to take out my I.D. I roll my eyes and reach for my wallet. I take my I.D. out and hold it out for him to see. I'm surprised when he reaches over and takes it out of my hands. I wasn't expecting him to actually grab it, I wasn't expecting him to brush his fingers against mine in the process, and I definitely wasn't expecting the slight tingle I felt from his touch.
If he felt it too, he's not letting on. "Alright, Isabella, I see that you are over 21. One Mojito coming up." He hands me my I.D. back, looking pleased with himself.
It's clear on his face. He very well knew I was over 21. He wanted to know my name. I try not to think much of it. He probably just wanted to know the name of the weird girl who chose to do homework in a bar. I'm sure that was a new one for him.
Before long, he's back with my drink. He makes eye contact as he says "Let me know if I can get you anything else, Isabella." and in this moment, he seems genuine.
"Thank you." I responded. I quickly look down as I feel blood rush to my face. He walks away to check in on others. The bar has picked up a little bit more. I'm starting to feel more self-conscious about the time I've spent here and decide that I will leave after this drink.
I take a sip, and I can't say that I'm impressed. I guess I should've asked what was in a Mojito before I willingly agreed to it- lesson learned for next time.
"Next time?" I mutter to myself. I'm confused by this thought. I exchanged a few words with this man, he smiled at me, and now I'm thinking about a next time. I begin to realize that I know nothing about him, not even his name. I feel at a disadvantage. But it's not like I can just ask him his name. That would be too obvious.
I begin brainstorming, until it hits me. The check! When I pay, it will have my bartender's name on the receipt. I don't think I've ever been this eager to pay for anything, but all I can think of is that at least I'll know something about this guy.
I must've been thinking too loud, because he makes his way over to me.
"What did you think of it?" he asks, glancing at the drink and then back to me.
"It was good." I lie.
He doesn't look convinced. "It was good? That's it?"
I feel the weight of his eyes on me. "Yeah, it was good." I stick to the lie.
"Ok" he chuckles. "Well, can I get you anything else? Another Mojito, something else?"
"Just the check, please." I respond, sweetly.
"This one's on the house, actually."
"No, no. I can't accept that. I can pay for my drink, just bring me the check." I can't help but roll my eyes, again. I don't want him to know that I'm desperate for the receipt. That the receipt is my ticket to finding out his name.
"I'm sure that you can pay for it, Isabella, but this one is free. I guess you'll just have to come back if you're that insistent on paying for a drink." he's smirking.
"What? No, seriously. I won't allow it." I stand firm.
He makes no attempt to hide his laughter. "It's already been paid for. There's nothing else that can be done. Sorry." He's clearly not sorry.
"I hope I'll see you back again, Isabella." and he walks away. I sit there for a few minutes, willing him to look at me again, so he can see that I'm not happy with how this played out. He doesn't though. When I realize this is getting me nowhere, I gather my things to leave and leave a tip in the jar closest to me.
As I walk past the bar, I glance over one more time. He's watching me as I leave. He smiles and gives me a little wave. I turn and keep walking. I'm positive that we both know I'll be back.