The First Date (Part 2)

"You have reached your destination."

The day was here, and she almost didn't go.

Tired glanced at the building before her. A big, light-up sign displays the bar's name in bold letters. It was the only thing remarkable about this place, and she would've driven past it if she didn't see the soft light gleaming from the corner of her eye. Why here? Why her? So many questions flooded her mind, and she knew that if she didn't go inside now, they would never be answered. The wind blew her hair to the side as she entered the bar.

She immediately regretted it.

It was surprisingly busy for a Wednesday night; crowded, loud, and busy. There were men there built like powerhouses, towering in size. She felt intimidated, reaching behind her for the door handle. Suddenly, she felt someone grab her wrist, and she yelped, trying to wring her hand free.

"Let me go!!"

"Woah, woah! Take it easy! It's just me!"

She recognized that voice immediately. She looked behind her and saw Bus, kneeling down to her size to see her. He got up when she turned around and slid his hand from her wrist to her palm.

"Come on. I'll show you our seats." She wanted to object, but there was no way she could go through the crowd alone, not with the staggering height differences. She turned her head away from him as her cheeks started to glow a slight pink, putting her other hand on her hip.

"Well? Go ahead. Lead the way."

Bus smiled and squeezed their way through the crowd to two open seats. As soon as she saw them, Tired jerked her hand away from Bus's grasp and sat down. She rested her head on her hand as she watched a hockey match on the T.V.

"Thanks for that…"

"Anytime. This place can get busy with athletes at a time like this. This is kinda like a safe haven for us. You know, when you don't have cameras in your face or crazy fans trying to get a lock of your hair and sell it on eBay or some sh!t like that."

No wonder this place was almost completely dismissible. No significance means no attraction from the press. It was kinda funny, really. It was like being invited to a "secret hideout" of sorts.

"Do you come here often?"

"Yeah." Bus sighed. "It's such a relief, not having to deal with these whack jobs that call themselves fans."

"Hey, careful! Some of my friends are 'fans' of yours!"

"Well, I don't mean all fans. I meant that there's an…extreme minority."

They both ordered their drinks, (No, I as the author will not elaborate on what they were) and Tired started asking Bus more questions.

"Why am I even here anyways? There are so many other people who will treat you better than I might! Why bug me out of all people?"

"I'll get to that. For now, tell me more about yourself. You may know a lot about me; my life's an open book to the world…but I don't know much about you. Seems kinda unfair, doesn't it?"

He had a good point. Damn, she hated it when he was right.

"Of course. Deflecting the question. I see how it is. Fine. What do you wanna know?"

"I have three questions for you off the top of my head."

"Fire away."

"For one, why do you hate me? For two, do you actually like sports, or do you just go, because your friends want you to go? Finally, what's your favorite color?"

"My favorite color? Would you try asking me a more sophisticated question, please?"

Bus crossed his arms, raised his eyebrow, and smirked.

"Fine. If ax plus 2 times bx plus 7 equals 15x squared plus cx plus 14 for all values of x, and a plus b=8, what are two possible values for c?"

What???

"…My favorite color is black."

"Ahh, there we go! I kinda figured, since you wear it a lot."

"How do you even come up with problems like that?"

"I always had to stay on top of my grades, both for my parents and for playing football in high school. Believe it or not, I used to be quite the nerd!

"Oh, trust me. I'd believe it."

"See, that behavior right there leads me to my first question…"

He leans a bit closer to her and rests his elbow on the island. Tired leans back and glances to the side, refusing to make eye contact. Bus's face turned from a smug face to a slightly more serious one.

"Why do you hate me?"

Tired built up the courage to look at him, butterflies building up in her stomach. She took a deep breath and sighed.

"Look, Bus, Sweetie; I don't hate you, okay? There's a…strong disliking, but I don't hate you."

"Ooookay? Well, why do you strongly dislike me?"

Tired groaned a bit and looked back to the side.

"I don't knowww. You're just…you, and…something about it doesn't make me feel right…"

"Ah, so you just hate me for no reason."

"Pretty much."

Bus looked at her for a few seconds. He looked almost hurt by her statement, wanting at least a reason behind her treatment. Although, the longer he thought about it, the more he started to think that what she said wasn't true at all. His smile slowly returned again as he began to develop his own theory.

"Except…I don't think that's the case."

Tired, confused, looked back at him.

"What's that supposed to mean???"

"I mean that I think I know the reason why you 'hate' me."

"Yeah, right! Come on, then! Let's hear it!"

"Hmm…Answer my last question, and I might tell you."

Tired glared at him for a while before returning her gaze back to the T.V.

"No, I don't hate sports. I just don't like the ones you're in."

"Hmm…You see, I don't think that's the case, either. I found your car parked outside this lot when you came here, and it's the same car I see parked outside of the stadium at some of my games. If your friends forced you to come here, they would be the ones driving, and I would see their cars, too…but I don't. You come here on your own sometimes."

"Oh, please. My car can look like any other car. You really think that it would be mine every time?"

"I have a good memory, I'll let you know. It's the same mind that passed all my tests."

Sick of his cockiness, Tired looked back at him and tapped her nails on the island.

"Alright, smartass. I answered your questions. Now, you answer mine. Why did you want me to come here as opposed for literally anyone better? What? You think you can win me over? Convert me? You think I'm some sort of entertainment to you?"

Bus snickered a little bit at that as Tired finished the rest of her drink.

"No, no, no. That would be a bit too cliché. I didn't choose you for any of those reasons."

"Then, what's the point?"

Bus finished the rest of his drink as she said that. He laughed softly and shook his head at the floor.

"Because of that attitude right there. Not a lot of girls quite catch my eye the way you do. You seem liberated. Any other girl would melt in the palm of my hand, sure, but despite you being hot-headed, you're also ice cold. You slip right out of my hands, just like you did when I led you to our seats."

Tired looked at him wide-eyed, not quite sure what she was hearing. She didn't notice that Bus was leaning slightly closer to her. He kept on inching slowly, enough for it to fly over her head.

"You know, you sure do talk a big game for someone who's so easily flustered. Why is that? You're all bark, no bite, but you can also defend yourself when you need to. You're the perfect combination of feisty and sweet."

Tired was stunned. How ironic that her being cold and icy would lead her to freeze in her tracks. Bus pretty much knew he won at this point, but he couldn't help but get one more jab out of her to end off the night. He leaned up next to her ear and spoke softly:

"You're not only hot-headed…You're straight-up hot."

That's it.

Tired pushed him away and sprang up from out of her seat. Her face was completely red, gripping her fists and stomping away in anger and embarrassment. Since they stayed a while, the crowd was almost gone, and the alcohol didn't seep enough into their system to affect either of them too terribly. Bus looked at her as she stomped off, resting his hand on his head. He yelled out for her.

"So did you wanna hear why I think you hate me???"

"Forget it! I already know why now!!"

At that moment, he was struck with Cupid's arrow.