Same disclaimers apply!


"Could I have a vodka up, please? Smirnoff," Kylie plopped down on the barstool tiredly as she looked up with puffy eyes at the burly, African-American bartender as she stopped at the nearest bar on her way home from dinner, which, she was unashamed to say, she had by herself.

"Do you have an ID, miss?"

She nodded, quickly flashing him her Drivers License.

"I'm going to have to see it for longer than that," he struck back with a no-nonsense look, complete with what she and her college friends would call 'crazy eyes.'"

"Look at it as long as you want," she said dejectedly. "Just give it back."

"Vodka up, Smirnoff, coming right up," the bartender nodded with a smile. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," she shook her head, not in the mood to talk to anyone.

"Oh, I think I do," he said kindly. "I've got a long night ahead of me. I work till closing at 2 A.M. Not to mention all the drunken messes I gotta clean up, aside from the usual inventory check."

"You win," she shrugged.

"Enjoy," he said with a smile, handing her a filled martini glass.

"Thanks," she smiled back, sipping lightly at her drink.

Two or three should do it, she decided. That should give me plenty of time to sober up later.

Kylie people-watched from her barstool, observing everyone who came and went, how happy or not-so-happy they were, all while thinking about her present situation.

At the rate she was going, she almost wished she had stayed with her wealthy Aunt Helena back in Seattle. Faking her religiosity and projecting an overall false image of herself as a Jesus-loving, church going, innocent virgin who didn't drink or do drugs to her aunt was nothing compared to moving to a new place only to find out your old best friend voluntarily got himself locked up for life in a mental institution for something he didn't do.

Her gaze eventually became a trance as she stared at the bar entrance, thinking about how she should've kept in touch with Zack and reached out to him more, or just reached out to people more in general. Who knows how many problems I've caused other people because of how much I don't seem to care?

Deep down, she knew she was a kind, fun person to be around, but after getting hurt so many times, she figured she was better off flying solo, keeping everyone out of her problems unless it was a life-or-death situation.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but how much longer are you going to be staring at that entrance?"

Kylie jumped, startled as she turned to see who had so rudely disrupted her train of thought. A man who appeared to be in his early-to-mid twenties, dressed to the nines in an Armani suit, cobalt blue tie, with a navy sweater vest and white dress shirt, sat at the barstool next to her and expectantly awaited her response.

"You've been staring at that entryway for the past ten minutes," he pointed out with a slight teasing smile on his face.

"That's not creepy at all," Kylie raised her eyebrows and turned the other way.

"Are you okay?" he asked, visibly concerned.

"Do I look okay to you?" she glared at him and gestured to the bartender, holding up her glass. "Could I have another one, please?"

"And one for me, too," the man said. "But with a twist, for me."

"You got it," the burly bartender smiled at the two of them.

"This one's on me," he added.

"Oh, you didn't have to…" Kylie stammered.

"Please, allow me. You've been crying periodically for at least the past hour," he said.

"Thanks," her pink lips curved upward in a toothless smile.

"I haven't had the best day myself, if it makes you feel better," he added.

"Can't be worse than mine," Kylie shook her head sadly.

"Try me," he turned to face her fully.

Kylie normally didn't accept drinks from strangers, nor did she 'drink and tell', as her old roommate Sasha from U-Dub would put it, but she figured she didn't have much left to lose.

Even though she was feeling a good buzz, she was still wary of telling everything to a complete stranger. "I moved here with my brother not even a month ago," she began, taking a sip of her second vodka, "only to find out that one of the closest friends I had turned into a complete IDIOT, and I feel like I don't know him anymore."

"How so?" her companion asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

"Let's just say…he got himself into some deep shit and doesn't seem to be fazed by the fact that he isn't doing something about it, even when he could, and he should."

"What kind of shit?"

"Um," She'd heard of people who had spilled their problems to complete strangers and felt completely better about it, but Kylie wasn't so sure she could do the same. She'd also seen the worse side of it, where the stranger happens to know the person about whom the other was talking, so she chose her words carefully. "He's taking the fall for something he didn't do."

"And how does this make him an idiot? Maybe he's protecting someone? A family member?"

"Believe me, he's not," she shook her head. "He's just being too stupid to see the solution that's right in front of him."

"Is this 'he' an ex-boyfriend, of sorts?"

"No," she shook her head. "Just an old friend I lost touch with after high school."

"Why did you lose touch with him?"

"I lose touch with everyone. Mostly. You ask a lot of questions," she laughed louder than she'd intended, letting out a few snorts in between. "I'm sorry, that was so embarrassing."

"That's alright," he smiled, though she felt like his smile was laughing at her in its own way. "Are you okay with that? The questions I mean?"

"Normally, I'd say 'no,' then demand to know why you're prying into my past when I don't even know your name," she shrugged. "But strangely enough, I feel like you're trying to make me feel better, or I shouldn't say 'trying' because you are making me feel better. I feel a little better already, and I don't even know you!"

"No, you're not," he shook his head.

"Excuse me?" she looked at him incredulously.

"You're not feeling better," he said. "Not at all. And that's okay. The important thing is, you're expressing your emotions and admitting them, which is the first step."

"To what? And what makes you qualified to draw that conclusion about me?"

"Four college degrees," he shrugged. "One undergrad, three post-grad."

"Well damn!" she gasped in pleasant surprised. "You've definitely got my attention now. Go on. What else do ya got?"

"So I can ask you more questions?"

"Go for it," she smiled brightly. "Can I ask you some, too?"

"Whatever you want," he smiled cheekily. "So why did you lose touch with your old friend?"

"Wait, I asked that, like, fifteen minutes ago, didn't I? Seems like just a second ago. Did I tell you?"

"It would seem that way, yes. You're far more intoxicated than I am, therefore I am more likely than you to remember," he replied. "I think you danced around the question."

"I am? Hmm, I guess you're right. I think is my third now," she laughed a little. "I don't really do this, you know; drink away my feelings, or confess them to a complete stranger."

"And yet, here you are," he smiled.


Before they knew it, they found themselves making out in the bathroom at the back of the bar, with Kylie straddling her legs around her mysterious new friend and wrapping her arms around his neck while the man's hands firmly gripped her waist and rubbed up and down her lower back.

"Why couldn't we have done this sooner?" Kylie moaned as she gripped the back of the hair and bit lightly at his lower lip.

"Believe me, I wanted to," he admitted with a light smirk. "But I didn't want you to do anything you'd regret later."

"You never told me why your day was bad," she said suddenly, bringing one of his hands down from her back and placing her hand on top of his. "Do you want to talk about that?"

"Yours beats mine by a long shot," he smiled, shaking his head and stood next to her against the bathroom sink.

"Try me," she echoed his words from half an hour ago.

"My coworkers all hate me," he sighed. "I'm nothing but a meddling nuisance to them. I know they talk about me when I'm not there, yet when they've got work or personal problems, I'm the one they talk to! They come to me, yet they complain about me! Tell me, how does work? All I want to do is help them out!"

"You're right," she snickered. "Mine beats yours by a long shot."

"I should be offended by your lack of empathy, given the emotional support I provided you when you told me about yours."

"But?"

"But…I'm kinda drunk, and I just want to forget about them for awhile, so…" he shrugged.

"Kidding aside, I think – as much as you say they're annoyed with you – they're actually very grateful to have you around to help them. They'll all realize it on their own time, and you'll get the recognition you deserve." Kylie paused to admire the cute dimples on his cheeks and his wide, warm smile before something occurred to her.

"We never introduced ourselves, did we?"

"Not to my knowledge," he hunched up his shoulders and placed his hands in the air in a shrug. He extended a hand. "Lance Sweets. But call me Lance."


To make up for the super angsty last chapter, I made this one a little lighter, with the ending thrown in there for a little shock to spice things up. You probably could've guessed it was Sweets that was the mysterious man, but if you didn't, hopefully the ending was a surprise. I've actually written the next few chapters already, but I'm still working some stuff out and making sure it's exactly how I want it to be before I post them. Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always appreciated!