His eyes were closed, but his brain kept him awake. It was already two in the morning, but no matter what he did, he couldn't fall asleep. Not with those images of Renee and her boyfriend in his head. Dean wished so much to be her friend, stop thinking about the past, ignore her love life, and simply be there for her. In theory, it was supposed to work. They were supposed to be able to hang out as friends, or at least coworkers, chat about wrestling or anything other than their history. Sure, it was his goal to get back together with her at some point but . . . he didn't even know when. What was the point in jealousy then?

It was dark and quiet. He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. He saw nothing, of course, but for some reason he preferred to see nothing to shutting his eyes.

The text message quickly caught his attention. The light from his phone blinded him for a second, but he was able to read the message almost immediately. Renee was the one who had sent it; or at least it had been sent from her phone.

Dean groaned and – irritated – he put the phone down next to him on the bed. He stared at the ceiling as his vision was getting clearer. He certainly wouldn't be able to fall asleep anytime soon. Knowing this, Dean sat up on the bed, glanced at his phone but didn't touch it, and finally he got up. Plain gray boxers were all he was wearing. After spotting his clothes, he collected them, and put jeans and T-shirt on. Shortly afterwards he found his shoes. Then he just needed to grab his jacket and he was good to go. Where? He didn't give that much thought.

It was late, but there were still people outside. There was a bar nearby. Dean entered, and joined the society of mostly drunk people. What was he doing there? Did he want to get drunk as well? It wouldn't be the cleverest thing to do, but then again, he wasn't in state of mind to think twice about his decisions.

He sat down on the stool and waited for bartender to give him his drink.

"Rough night?" the bartender initiated the small talk.

Dean finished the shot and went on to order another one. As he waited, his fingertips kept tapping on the surface of the counter.

After pouring another shot of whiskey into his body, he turned around and checked what kind of folks he was surrounded by. He was particularly interested in the female part of the attendants. He was looking for something young and tasty. Something with low standards but not absolute shit.

Dean stood up and approached a lady in a short red dress and messed up hair. She looked nervous, lacking any kind of confidence.

"Hey," uttered Dean.

"Hi," said she, and started looking for something in her purse. A minute later she took out a pack of cigarettes.

"You're here with someone?"

The blond girl looked up but said nothing.

"I'm Dean."

"Lyla."

"Nice to me you, Lyla. I . . . uhm, I really like your dress." Dean's eyes lingered on her cleavage. "And you have beautiful eyes," Dean complemented her green eyes that however suggested that there was something fucked up going on with her. Probably a junkie.

"Yeah, huh, what do you want?"

"Just talk. I don't know much people here."

"Alright." She was looking at the exit. There was a deep need in her eyes to leave and have a smoke.

"I'm in town for a couple of days . . . I'm leaving tomorrow, actually. I was wondering if you . . ."

"Look, I gotta go."

"Wait," Dean panicked and reached for her arm. He let go of it in the moment when he noticed some bald tough-looking guy suspiciously looking at him.

The girl left and Dean was right at the beginning. Alone. Desperate. He returned to the counter and sat down.

"Another one," he said, pointing at the empty glass still placed in front of him.

Search continued. Still sitting on the same spot, he looked to the left and to the right, hoping to find an adequate target.

The bartender placed the filled glass in front of him, but Dean wasn't looking. His eyes were targeting a group of three girls, laughing, in the process of putting on their coats. Dean wasn't sure how drunk they were, but he'd give it a shot.

He stood without finishing his drunk and started walking toward the group. The goal was to separate one of them from the others. The best way to do it was to avoid attracting too much attention, being smooth. As Dean wasn't really drunk he was able to focus and make his plan work. When he walked past the girls, he bumped into one.

"Sorry," he apologized, and did not forget to add a seductive smile.

"It's alright," the girl said, not paying any attention until she clashed with his look.

Dean realized he could hook that one, the cute blondie.

Since Dean appeared there, he decided to help the girl with putting her coat on. "So I guess you're leaving."

"Yeah, it's getting kinda late."

"You wouldn't want to, uh, hang out for a little longer . . ." Dean played the charm card and hoped for the best results.

Her friend leaned toward the girl that was at Dean's mercy and said to her, "No. Let's just go. You don't know him."

And the third one continued, "And he's like . . . old."

Dean did his best to not look offended. But old? What the fuck? He was in his prime. Now the challenge became personal. He made it his goal to get the girl; despite what her friends thought.

"I'm really sorry," she said, "but I should go."

"Come on, I'll get you home safe. I promise."

The girl was smiling, and it was evident that she was considering staying, in spite of how late it was and that she knew nothing about the guy who was offering his company to her.

"Maybe I could say for couple more minutes."

"Yeah."

"No!" one of her friends shouted.

"I'll be fine. See ya later."

She let her angered two girl friends leave just to be with the guy she did not know.

"Good decision," Dean said, already taking her away from the exit. They passed the counter where Dean still had a drink waiting for him, and ordered more. "Let me buy you a drink."

"I'll have a coke."

Dean laughed. "Come on." Seeing her hesitation, Dean added, "I won't get you drunk."

"Alright. Then I'll have what you're having."

"Okay," said Dean, smiling.

They left with their drinks to find a more private spot where they could talk. Where Dean could persuade her to change staying with him for a few minutes to spending the night with him.

"I hope you won't have a problem with your friends because of me."

"I don't know. I think they were right. I don't know you and –"

"Hey. Hey!" Dean grabbed her hand and put it in his palms. "Look at me. You're safe with me. I'm not gonna hurt you, and I'll make sure that nobody will." He was good at making it all sound very convincing.

"Yeah."

Dean tightened the grip and made sure she was looking into his eyes the whole time he was speaking. "Nothing will happen that you don't want to. I just . . . I wanted to talk to you. Get to know you. You're . . . beautiful. And you seem like a good girl."

"Yeah, not really."

"Come on, I'm sure you are."

"Thanks." She took a sip of her drink while being watched by Dean.

"Tell me something about yourself."

"Okay. I've lived here my whole life, I have an older sister, I love swimming, and I have no idea what I wanna do when I finish school." She looked up. "College."

"How old are you?"

"20."

"Oh." That may have been another reason for her not wanting to drink.

"Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all."

"And you? How old are you?"

"26," Dean said. He wasn't sure if it was necessary that he lie, but age difference was the last thing he wanted to be the reason why his night gets ruined.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a physician." Close enough. Hopefully she doesn't need any details. If yes, a lie can always be covered up with more lies.

"You live here?"

"No. Just visiting the city for a couple of days. My brother lives here," he explained. "He's getting married in two days, that's why I'm here."

"Congratulations."

"Well, it's not my wedding." Dean smiled. "I can't see that in my near future."

"You're single."

"Yep. My last relationship ended two months ago."

"What happened?" she wanted to know.

Dean wavered, but not long enough to make her suspicious. He looked to be considering whether he should reveal the reason why his last relationship failed to a complete stranger.

"You don't wanna talk about it?' she guessed.

"Not really." A second later, he said, "She cheated on me."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"That's alright. I'm getting over it."

"How long had you been together?"

"Three years."

"That sucks."

"How about you? You seeing someone?"

"No."

Dean finished his drink and stood up. "One more?"

The girl looked at him, and confessed, "I'm sorry. I don't like the taste."

Dean chuckled. "That's perfectly fine. How about I get you something else?"

"Thanks."

He finished her drink too and went to get the new drinks.

When Dean returned, the girl was on her phone, and she did not look very happy.

"Something wrong?"

"No. Just . . . it's really late."

"Yeah, you're right. Let's just finish the drinks and we can go."

"Five more minutes."

They sat in silence for a while, at times looking at the other person, even sharing a comfortable eye contact. "I really like your eyes." When she smiled, Dean said, "And your smile too. Those lips . . ."

"I see what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

She was quiet.

"What's your name?"

"Juliet."

Dean chuckled. Then he said, "Hi, Juliet, I'm Romeo."

"Ok, I'm not that naïve. I know your name is not Romeo."

"You're right," Dean admitted. "I'm Robert. Close enough?"

She laughed. "Close enough."

The glasses in front of them were almost empty. They both knew what this meant.

"Well, this was fun," the girl, who now appeared feeling a bit guilty, said, "but I think I should . . . I better go now."

"Yeah, I suppose. Unless you wanna go to my place? I mean, I don't live here, but I'm staying at this hotel –"

"No. I'm sorry, I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Yeah." Dean was dealing with the defeat. Of course it wouldn't always go as smoothly as he expected. But this girl . . . he could make her change her mind. He wasn't going to give up just yet. "Let me take you home."

"You don't –"

"Na-ah, I promised to get you home safe."

He stood up and helped her with her coat. Trying to do it as naturally as possible, without raising suspicion, he moved his body closer to hers, placed his hand on her waist and the other in her hair. He moved the hair away from her face, looked her in the eyes and then at her lips. She seemed a bit freaked out, but that was alright. Dean got everything under control. His lips approached hers, but they never touched.

"Let's go," Dean whispered.

"Okay." She lost the power, one could hear that from her quiet, unassured voice. But Dean was going to wait before he'd use it to his advantage.

Only as the cab approached her house, things changed. The reason why she hinted that nobody was at home was clear to both of them. She wanted him there, giving an excuse of not wanting to be alone, reminding him that he promised to protect her. Dean ended up following her inside, and succeeded in getting into her bedroom even without making her drunk. He knew that from then on it would be a piece of cake for him.