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Friday, October 28, 2011

The Girl in the Bar: An Unlikely Meet-Cute


I looked at the new girl across the bar. She looked… well, sexy. A typical co-ed – low cut dress that teased with just enough cleavage, her perfect lips painted to their pink perfection looked just good enough to eat. And she was flirting with anyone who was close enough. Slight tweaking of eyebrows, gentle sway of her head and sudden short laugh… More than once I saw her glancing at me as she flicked an imaginary fleck of her dark brown hair off her shoulder. In short, she was putting on a good show.
I looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed me watching her. A few months ago, it wouldn’t have been much of a problem; I was easily the most popular girl on the campus – your typical blond-with-big boobs, the perfect Queen bee with the best friends’ fame could buy, a boyfriend to die for and my best friend Chelsea, who I shared everything with. I couldn’t have asked for more. But I also had a secret – a secret so terrible that when it came out, it destroyed the very foundations of my existence. Sure, my parents were supportive – I mean, they didn’t kick me out – but I became “that lesbian, that freak” overnight. And it wasn’t even my fault… Chelsea was the one who “accidently” read my journal during a sleepover and promised to keep my secret... But as it turned out she had always been in love with Tyler, my ex, and couldn’t bear to see him with someone who did not love him back. So she told him, and he told Jenna, his other girlfriend, and she told her friends and I became the talk of the day. But the stories eventually died out… and the most popular girl in Brigston High slowly faded into oblivion. And I was replaced by that New Girl across the bar.
I turned around to look for my companion. Not so my companion as the crazy-drunk Slutty Jessie, I had once helped. Call it my two rose petals – probably the only good thing I’d done in my tenure as the reigning bitch. It was Friday night, I was sitting at home, alone, and she was on probation for DUI and needed a designated driver to carry her to the bar and back home, that is, if she ended up going home. I saw her talking to the college guy, Motorcycle Jack who hung around the school her, a lot. She was leaning real close to him and breathing heavily in his neck. Even from this distance I could see her bosom heaving and her naked nipples taut under that flimsy top. At least one of us was getting lucky tonight.
I turned my attention back to the new girl. It seemed like her slew of admirers had grown in the last minute. She looked at me, once again, and smiled. My heart turned turtles as I smiled back. Okay, I have a confession to make. Though I was what I have already said I was, I am still a virgin. Even though I was in a relationship, I never felt like having… you know, “the sex”… and I have never been with a girl either. A few of my old friends, including Chelsea, have “experimented” with each other, but never me; maybe coz I was too scared that I would be discovered. So, the prospect of kissing those pink pouty lips garnered butterflies in my stomach. I thought about gathering the courage to talk to her. But I did not have the courage to gather the courage to talk to her. I turned to look for Jessie, and saw her leaving with Motorcycle Jack and his black leather-clad friend.
I looked at the drink in my hand, Coke with lime. I had just started on my third, waiting to see whether my companion was going to need my help to carry herself back home. Now that she was gone, it was my cue to leave. But I had already paid for the drink, so I decided to finish it. As I sipped the drink, I looked up to see the girl across the bar watching me. Suddenly, she grinned widely, raised her hand and beckoned me.
I was almost out of my seat, when I felt a body slide into the empty bar stool beside me. “Don’t bother,” I heard, “it’s not you.”
“Huh?” I turned to look at the speaker. She was a young woman, presumably in college. Heavy built, thick arms, stout legs but not very tall – she looked like a female version of Vin Diesel with hair. NOT a very good look for a girl! She was, most probably, into some kind of field sports, or maybe serious Gymming.
“It’s not you she’s calling,” the Brunette repeated, silently beckoning the bartender. “She’s straight.”
“Uh... yeah. I know,” I replied. “She’s in my school. I’ve seen her leaving with a guy on the motorcycle a few times.”
The brunette laughed. She had the most amazing laugh. “Someone’s keeping tabs on their replacements,” she remarked. I was taken aback. How the heck did she know that? I looked at her, but she was busy calling the bartender. The bartender looked in our direction, then pointedly ignored her and tended to other customers. I did not like that.
The brunette saw it, too. And smiled and exhaled deeply, like someone undertaking a challenge. “Yo Markus,” she raised her voice and shouted over the din of the bar. “Who do you have to fuck to get a drink around here?”
The entire bar was silent for heart beat, then surreally the noise started again.
Markus, the bartender, hobbled over to us. “Not me, darl’n,” he replied in that typical southern drawl. “You ne’er called back the last time.”
The brunette laughed, again. “I promise, next time I will. Now, be a dear and get me the usual,” she said pouting her lips. For a moment I was stuck how much she looked like the new girl. I saw the object of my thoughts scowling at my neighbor. Then she saw me looking at her and purposefully looked away.
The bartender brought her a shot of whiskey, neat, and a mug of cold tap-beer and grinned, all of his 32 rotten teeth visible. The girl seemed unfazed and even blew a kiss towards him (though my mind must have been playing games).
The brunette downed the whiskey in one go, and started on her beer. She looked at me. “The whiskey keeps me from getting drunk,” she volunteered.
“That’s the first time, I’ve ever heard that,” I smiled. The brunette grinned. For some reason, I loved the fact that I was making her smile.
“Well… I’m different,” the girl replied. Just then, I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye. The new girl was pointedly staring at us, scowling slightly, as if she was jealous. And I don’t know why but I felt guilty. I looked at the girl beside me, and smiled politely, almost apologetically.
The brunette looked at me. “Why don’t go over and introduce yourself?” she asked.
“Oh no,” I replied embarrassed. “I will not… I am not…”
“Oh, c’mon!” The brunette interrupted. “All evening, you have been eyeing her like she is eyeing that Joe behind you.”
I turned around to get a better look at the guy she was talking about. Mack Riley, the nerdy AV Guy from our school, out with a bunch of his nerdy friends – a complete Average Joe, not at all like the Brad Pitts hovering all around her, all night. He was sitting exactly opposite her, talking to a nerdy girl at his table who had her back to us. Just then, he looked up and smiled. And she shone! I chuckled. Sure, the girl was flirting all night. But she wasn’t flirting with me, or guys beside her; she was flirting with the guy in front of her. That’s what “it” should feel like.
“So… why don’t you go and introduce yourself,” the brunette asked again. “It’s not like she’s going to be freaked out. She has been hit on by girls before. She doesn’t really care.”
“How…?” I started.
“She has a gay sister,” the brunette cut me off.
“Yeah?” I asked cockily. “How do you know that?”
The brunette grinned and leaned in closer. And though we have been together for 5 years, and I couldn't have been happier, I will never forget the words she uttered in my ears that night, “Because I am her sister.”
- By Furrina