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“One man down?”
Nodding, I grin, “Yep.”
Emina’s family is from Bosnia, although her mom was pregnant with her when they became refugees. They’re big soccer fans but Emina will watch hockey with me as long as I watch “football” with her.
“Not bad,” she chuckles, looking back to the bar as the bartender comes back. I think he said his name was Jake before. I was still in my working-to-be-a-functioning-social-human at that point of the night.
Emina leans in and grabs the first offered drink, handing it back to me, before taking the second. “Thank you,” we say at the same time, and he grins, a quick nod of his head.
“Sure thing. You ladies opening a tab?”
My friend looks at me, probably because she’s only interested in staying for one drink. Shrugging as I nod, I lean in. “Yes. Please.”
“Sophia?” he asks, probably to put a name on the tab.
I try not to take it to heart—bartenders know their patrons—but after the night I’ve had, him remembering my name from an hour before sends a warm thrill through me. “Yeah. Sophia. Do you need my card?” I turn my phone over to slide my debit card free, but Jake shakes his head as he grins crookedly.
“You’re good. I trust you. Just let me know if you ladies need anything else.”
“Gosh, he’s beautiful,” Emina mumbles after he walks away.
Laughing lightly, I agree. It’s one thing to appreciate the same type of man as your friend, but another one entirely to sleep with your friend’s boyfriend, so I’m not at all jealous to realize we both find the bartender attractive.
We stand and watch the hockey game, sipping on our drinks. When the seat in front of us opens up, Em pushes me toward it. “Sit! I’m going to head out soon, anyway.” I take the stool but turn my back to the bar so I can still face and talk with my friend. Soon though, she’s ordering a ride on her phone and before I know it, I’m alone.
Turning back to the bar, I place both of our glasses down and push them to the other end before propping my cheek in my hand and focusing on the closest television. The period is just about over, and I’m wondering what the heck I’m going to do with myself during the twenty minutes between second and third periods.
“Where’d your friend go?” Jake’s smooth voice interrupts.
Dropping my hand to rest on my other forearm on the bar top, I tip my head in the direction of the door. “She had to go.”
“Do you need to close out?” He looks remorseful. “I didn’t notice you guys were done, I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m staying for a bit. It’s okay,” I add with a smile.
“All right. Can I get you something else to drink?” Jake stacks our two used glasses after dropping the straws into what I can only assume is a garbage of some sort.
“What flavored vodkas do you have?” Because I’ve been on the liquor train, I may as well stay on it. At least with vodka, I can nurse them until I’m ready to face the silence of being home.
“The usual fruity flavors, but if you’re looking to be a little more adventurous, we just got in Effen Blood Orange. Could pair it with your Sprite again, or a seltzer, if you’d rather get the full taste of the orange.”
“Sure.” I nod. “Let’s do it. Speltzer,” I blush at the combination of drinks. “Seltzer. Sorry. I swear I’m not drunk. I just...mash my words, sometimes.”
Thankfully, he laughs. “I’ve done it too. I’ll be right back.”
He walks away to go to the center of the bar, where they have a wall of liquor, pulling down a glass bottle with an orange colored label. Instead of mixing it down there, he brings the bottle to my end of the bar.
Nodding toward my hand, he then puts his attention on pouring the vodka. “You didn’t get too far tonight.”
I look down to where he nodded and notice the colorful marks on my hand. O’Gallaghers didn’t have hand stamps tonight, but there’s a red circle with a smiley face from bar two, and a neon green X that was done with marker from the third place. “Everyone decided that twenty-five wasn’t so fun to celebrate and ended the night early?” he jokes, glancing up through his long, dark eyelashes.
Gosh, it’s not fair that men get the great eyelashes.
“No. They’re still out there, I’m sure,” I tell him honestly, watching as he pulls the soda hose out. It’s a little too loud to hear the pop and fizz as he fills the glass, but I can imagine it. “We had a bit of a falling out, if you will.”
“That’s too bad,” he answers, putting the mixed drink in front of me. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay? Do you want a menu?”
I shake my head, although I should probably start consuming carbs if I hope to make it out of the night. I may not drink a lot, but I know that carbs will allow me to drink longer. “I’ll be okay for now, but thank you.”
