THE BLUE-EYED STRANGER
1109 Words
FREYA
The Uber drops us off at the club's crowded door, where bouncers check IDs and tickets.
Cassie ensured I didn't forget my fake ID—i’m 19 and not yet 21, and apparently the club has a strict under-21 entry rule—while she’d dolled me up.
I tremble in the cold while she flirts with the bouncer, most likely giving him our tickets and flashing her boobs which pop out of her spandex leather top.
Her strategy is working because soon, she is calling me to follow her into the illuminated edifice. The thunderous bass drums from inside the club consume every sound space, and bodies are moving everywhere.
The murmurs and heavy sounds from the DJ blend into a cacophony, and by the time we get to the bar, I've gone half-deaf.
Cassie says something to the bartender, a middle-aged man, and he nods before pulling out two shot glasses to fill with tequila.
Cassie grabs her shot and downs it when he passes it towards us.
"Cheers!" I roll my eyes as she mutters, clinking her empty glass with mine. "Cheers!"
As I swallow down the scorching liquid in one rush, Cassie says again. “Great, now we're ready to party!"
"Oh yeah." I chuckle as I follow her onto the dance floor. I'd been hesitant to come to this club just hours before. Maybe it's the tequila, but now I feel lightheaded and calm.
The music abruptly changes to something with a thundering beat, and everyone lets out a loud yell. Cassie rattles her body into mine as we dance until a guy with too much cologne oozing off him sneaks between us and asks my ever-ready hot companion for a dance.
I don't care enough to stop him, but I make sure Cassie notices I haven't abandoned her. She laughs and winks at me before letting out an exaggerated sigh and dancing away with the stranger.
I also sigh, and taking the cue, I return to the bar and order more drinks.
"You having any fun yet?" The bartender inquires. And I can tell he's European by his accent.
I nod, putting on a phony smile, and he smirks at me before dumping a glass of whiskey on the table. I gulp it so quickly that my throat burns.
When the alcohol hits my bloodstream, the burning intensifies, but I scarcely notice and order another. And another. Until my head gets foggy, and I see a dark void where the bartender used to be.
My uneasiness, however, does not stop me from drinking. I occasionally glance at the dance floor, where I notice Cassie has switched dance partners. The other guy's scent must have undoubtedly suffocated her as it did me, and at the thought, a loud laugh escapes my throat.
A ping from my phone draws my attention to my purse, and I pull out the device. It's a notification from i********:—a post from my mother.
Oh, right, now s**t hits the fan. When I press the icon, a picture of her wedding band finger appears on the screen. I can't help but be impressed by how gorgeous and precious the jewelry appears in the photograph. It must have cost a fortune, and I'm wondering if my mother helped pay for it or if her would-be new man is genuinely a wealthy jock, as she claims.
Either way, the post has me hissing so loudly that the bartender overhears me.
"Any problem, miss?" He inquires, and I slowly nod. "Please give me a new bottle of alcohol. A stronger and more potent one.”
"Yes, ma'am." The bartender chuckles, and as he turns around, a voice from nowhere adds. "Make it two drinks, please. No, two bottles.”
I turn around to see a man with ripped jeans, a black leather jacket, and a tight black shirt staring at me with piercing blue eyes. His light blonde hair is unkempt and long, spilling over his brow and almost to his chin. The beard on his chiseled features is growing, and my gosh, this stranger, whoever he is, is f*****g handsome. Exceptionally attractive.
He's also absurdly tall and broad-shouldered. He has the look you'd expect to see on models or movie stars, not at a random bar.
I choke as my gaze drop to his lips. They are arched upwards in an arrogant grin. He's aware that I'm staring at him. He knows I think he's hot. He's aware of the effect he has on me.
I jerk my head back to the counter, muttering a quiet f**k!
My phone falls to the ground, and I stoop to pick it up, but the stranger beats me to it. His voice is smooth as he hands over the device and says. "That's a nice ring you've got there."
He’s referring to the i********: photo. I gulp.
"Thank you. It belongs to my mother."
"Hm. Impressive." He muses, and I'm unsure whether he expects me to respond, but I don't.
I'm already getting hot and bothered by his proximity, which is not a good sign.
"Could you please give me another bottle? I'm afraid this won't satisfy my thirst." I tell the bartender, who gives me a strange look this time.
He disapproves, but he says nothing. He merely takes my order and slams another bottle on the table.
I reach out to grab the bottle, but a hand from behind pulls it away.
I know exactly who it is. The stranger. And f**k if I'm not annoyed—or maybe I like it secretly. I chide my inner self.
Regardless, my body twists around, and I face him. Again.
"What do you think you're doing?" I yell at him.
He merely smirks, his harsh beauty irritating me even more. "Well, you're quite a sight tonight. Purchasing an excessive amount of alcohol and drinking straight from the bottle. "You look like a tout dressed up."
"Excuse me?!"
"Been watching you all night, and all I can say is you won't make it home on your own if you keep drinking like that. I bet you can’t stand on your two toes as it is.” He continues, and this time, I do not respond. That's because I'm at a loss for words. The brazen audacity. And I hate that the smugness make him more hot.
"Are you heartbroken? Or are you attempting to shut out memories of some wuss you call an ex?" He inquires before taking a big swallow from the booze bottle. "Please enlighten me, sweetheart. You look like a damsel in distress and I'd be delighted to keep you company."
- Writer
