Smoke

CHAPTER 4

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Once at the pub, we made our way over to a booth near the front. Strategically done so by me, just in case I needed a quick escape. I glance around, taking in my new surroundings. The place is decked out top to bottom in wood paneling and pictures of all of the bands who apparently come and perform here. Classic rock plays in the background - not too loud so that one can actually hear themselves think. That's what I don't like about clubs. Yeah they are fun every now and then but if you actually need to communicate with someone, you have to scream at them in hopes that there's a slim chance that they actually understand you.

I look back at Dawson, who is eyeing me inquisitively. I take another look at him since the lighting is better and noticed he's actually pretty built. I can see tattoos poking through the top of his V-neck and covering both of his arms. His hands are covered in small scars all along the back, clearly signaling that he's been in his fair share of fights. I only know this because mine look the same way. My eyes trail back up to his face and the way he's currently smirking at me, with his now noted dimples on each side, signifying that he caught me checking him out. I clear my throat and wave down a server, now really needing this beer to calm my nerves.

The server makes her way over to us with a genuine smile on her face. "Hi my name is Clairah and I will be your server tonight. What can I get you both to drink?" The server briefly glances Dawson's way, but her eyes settle on me.

I divert my eyes down to my draft list and order a Busted Knuckle, internally amused by the irony.

"Make that two actually," Dawson states, pulling me from my thoughts. "A girl who likes dark beer...and here I was expecting you to order a cider or some shit." He chuckles softly and eyes me, as if he's trying to gauge how I am going to react next.

I smirk, amused by his response. "Or some s**t? Clearly you're used to being with girls who don't know jack about the glories of craft beer," I start. "Or who just can't handle their alcohol in general."

He huffs out a breathy laugh and says, "You're not wrong there. I like you more already. A girl who knows her beer, they are few and far between."

The server makes her way back over to us and sets down our drinks. She turns to me and gives a shy smile, while quickly looking me up and down and gently biting her lower lip, before turning on her heels to go and check on her other tables. Admittedly, I can't help but notice how pretty she is. Her curly light brown hair was pulled up into a loose, messy bun; showcasing her facial features. She caked on a little too much makeup though for my taste.

"Oh, I get it now," Dawson says, clearly catching onto the situation unraveling in front of his face. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his statement, which led him to continue his thought. "When you said you don't date, you just meant that you don't date men. You were just trying to spare my feelings, yeah?"

I couldn't help but let out a giggle before saying, "If I'm being blunt, I don't care if I hurt the feelings of a complete and total stranger. I said I don't date because it's the truth. I don't. I can appreciate an attractive person when I see one, guy or girl. My dating history has solely been based off of whether or not someone is genuinely a good human being." I take a sip of my beer before continuing, "Not based off of gender or race. There are a lot of shitty people in the world, so if I come across someone who is good, then that's enough for me. Well it was, before establishing my no dating rule."

He sat there quietly for a moment before sighing a simple, "Wow."

I pursed my lips questioningly, "What?"

"You continue to surprise me freckles. So then tell me, why is it that you don't date?"

"Freckles? Really?" I'm sure the confused look I was giving him was priceless. I've been told that I wear my emotions all over my face if my thoughts haven't already spilled out of my mouth first, that is. I have no poker face what-so-ever.

He threw his hands up in defense, "Hey that's the best I could come up with since you haven't given me much to go on. But you didn't answer the question," he pushes further.

"I don't date because people are disappointing, really. I mean, it's not their fault. Humans are just wired in a way to disappoint others. We lie, cheat, lust and hurt people we care about all the same. I moved here to focus on myself. Dating just complicates things and the last thing I need is a complication," I breathe out my rant, matter-of-factly before adding, "Monogamy is just a façade. We are all just animals looking to fulfill our needs and desires. Novels paint these perfect pictures of love and happy-ever-afters, when in reality, they are just words on a page used to give people hope that they too...will in fact have a so called happy ending. That's just not realistic, is it? The world is a dark place and the people in it are its victims being swallowed by the darkness...one by one."

He simply shakes his head, looking as though he's internally debating what to say next. "You are by far...the most intriguing person I have ever met." He flashes a sweet smile at me, showcasing his dimples and then looks down nervously.

"So I have been told," deciding to take a large sip of my beer hoping it will wash away my accidental rant. "Enough about me and my dating views. You have yet to prove to me that you aren't a crazy stalker," I chuckled before taking another sip.

"Well what do you want to know, freckles?" He laughs and then adds, "But your tirade also leaves me with so many more questions."

I roll my eyes at his awful attempt at a nickname before I say, "With trust comes answers. You got more than enough of a peek into my personal thoughts for one night." He smiles and nods, accepting my response, or lack thereof and waits for me to continue.

I sit and ponder, trying to come up with anything, not really sure what to ask except the cliche first questions that you ask someone that you barely know. The questions that I really don't like to answer.

"Everything I suppose that is necessary to know before I make any conclusive decision about you...for now." I tap my fingers on the table in attempt to muster up a few questions, but fall short of the basic clichés. "Are you from the city? What do you do for a living? Your family? Do you partake in illegal hobbies?"

"Whoa, alright then. Just jumping straight on in there aren't you? Well for starters, I own a few gyms around the city, which take up most of my time. Which then goes hand in hand with my extra-curricular activities..." he trails off, side stepping his answer, but I'll accept it for now. "My whole family is from here though. I've lived here my entire life. I have two brothers, one older, and one younger. My mom and dad died a few years back. What about you?" He quickly tries to divert the attention back towards me, I'm sure to see if he can get a few more answers out of me, while also avoiding talking about his family.

I nod slowly, absorbing all of this new information, deciding not to ask further details on his parents' deaths, not wanting to strike any unknown chords quite yet. I consider how to answer these questions, while also keeping my answers brief and without too much detail.

"I just moved here from out of state. I actually just arrived this morning. Currently unemployed. My job will be looking for work before school starts back up. My hobbies...basically anything that doesn't involve me having to interact with other people." I look down and start picking at the torn skin around one of my nails.

"Wow, could you be any more vague?" He laughs though, keeping the mood light. "You didn't answer the question in regards to your family, though."

"I don't like personal questions. I like to keep my private life, just that...private. Plus it keeps the mystery alive. What fun is it revealing all of your secrets? Keeps people on their toes," I crack a smile, hoping he accepts my answer without pushing further.

"Fair enough." he brings his hand up to rub the back of his neck. I can tell he has so many questions that he wants answered.

Any thoughts or questions he had were cut short and I see him glance over my shoulder towards the door. He frantically looks at me, silently apologizing. I glance at him, the look of confusion plain on my face before I hear who he was obviously looking at behind me.

"Dawson! Where the hell have you been man? You just stopped responding. I figured you decided to-" his eyes finally landing on me, the realization that he was interrupting soaking in. He looks to Dawson with a smug smile plastered across his face and then his head snapped back over to me. "You going to introduce me to your friend Dawson, or what?" He questions his friend, while his green eyes never leave mine. He ends up taking a seat next to me in the booth - sitting so close that our shoulders are smashed up against one another. This causes Dawson to shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Hi gorgeous, my name is Kol," his eyes traveling down the front of my body.

I start scooting further towards the far end of the booth, resting my back against the wall, and bring up a leg to rest on the torn leather of our shared seat - in a poor attempt to put a physical distance between us.

I take a good look at him, concluding that his looks resemble that of Dawson's - quite similarly in fact. His eyes are a little different and his hair is a little longer, showing off some perfect waves that curl upwards at the end. His facial hair is grown out, but well groomed. Whereas Dawson is clean shaven. Both sharing the same dimpled grin.

I wonder...

Dawson clears his throat, pulling me from my thoughts. Clearly attempting to draw attention away from the current stare-off across the table, he simply replies, "Actually I can't, seeing as she has yet to introduce herself to me." He runs his hands through his hair, evidently a nervous habit he's using to calm some nerves that I see growing ever so quickly.

I flash him a quick smile, assuming that might calm some tension. I don't think it worked, as he is still rigid, staring down the newcomer at our table.

Kol scoffs in amusement, looking back to me, "Huh! Is that so? I like it when a girl can give my big brother a run for his money. It's a nice change of pace." He confirms my familial suspicions, while he looks over to Dawson and excitedly says, "I like this one. If you end up tanking this date, then I call dibs."

I choke on my laugh. I take a deep breath before trying to swallow my amusement. Kol is clearly the jokester of the two, lightly laughing at his brother's hardening glare.

"Kol, can I talk to you for a moment?" Dawson expeditiously glances my way, as if he's trying to see if I have been successfully scared off by his brother, before looking back to the chuckling man to my left. "Privately," he demands instead of asks, speaking through his teeth.

"Fine. You know just how to ruin my fun," Kol sighs, rolling his eyes before they both stand and make their way over to the bar.

I watch intently as the brothers bicker back and forth, both occasionally peeking glances at me, as if to verify I am still here. I see a few more figures make their way through the crowd from the front door and gather around the Kings, laughing at something Kol said, and in unison they all look over my way. Their smiles grew impossibly larger and looked back towards Dawson. One of them even giving him a stiff pat on the shoulder. From what I can make out, trying to lip read from a distance, I'm pretty sure I see the words "You're in trouble, mate."

I look away, growing more uncomfortable with the amount of eyes that keep landing on me. So, I finish off the rest of my beer, setting it to the side of the table for it to be cleared, glancing down at my watch only to see it is almost 3:00 AM.

My face must have reflected my utter desire to leave my newfound fishbowl, when I look back up to see Dawson making his way back over to me. All the while, Kol is turned around attempting to get the bartender's attention to order a round of drinks for the group that is still staring us down with amusement smeared across their faces.

Dawson stands in front of me, running his hand through his hair once more before asking, "Is my time up then? You did say one drink, and you basically just chugged the rest of it." There was disappointment in his voice, I think?

I tilt my head to the side, debating on my answer. "I think that's enough for one night. Besides, it's getting pretty late and I'm exhausted from moving all day." I move to grab my wallet from my pocket to pay the tab and he holds his hand up to stop me.

"I told you, this one is on me. Put your money away. Consider it a 'welcome to the big city' drink," he says, throwing down a $20 and holds out his hands to me. I take them both as he pulls me back to the other side of the booth and helps me to my feet.

I chuckle and nod my head as a thank you and turn to head home when I feel his hand wrap around my wrist. I stop and look back at him, searching his face for - well honestly, anything. He looks nervous, yet a little hopeful when he asks, "When can I see you again? Did I at least answer enough questions to earn your name?"

Part of me wants to give in and tell him my name and see where it leads from there, maybe even have a new friend if anything. But, I came here with the full intention of being completely focused on myself and my studies. I need to quit falling into reckless habits. I have a tendency of falling back into my old ways, just for the sake of having fun, even if only for one night - only to pay for it later. I don't need anyone distracting me from that right now. I don't have any more room in myself to make another decision that I will come to regret.

So instead I listen to my instincts and blurt out, "Like I said before, I like the mystery. Maybe I'll bump into you again in the future. If not...then at least you have an interesting story to tell your buddies," I nod my head over to the group by the bar. The looks on their faces clearly stating that they aren't used to girls like me. Girls who don't throw themselves at guys like them. Dawson's eyebrows raise in bewilderment but he gives me a small, defeated smile and nods.

"Thanks for the drink Dawson." I turn and quickly make my way out of the pub before he can protest. I briefly glance in his direction once I'm at the door to see his hand on the back of his slowly shaking head with an even bigger smile than the one he gifted to me while looking back towards the group of rather large men. Almost as if it was his silent answer to their ever so burning question of if he got my name. He made his way back to the bar, receiving a group of sarcastic pats on the back.

I finally peel my eyes away from the dumfounded looks and make my way back to my apartment, attempting to hide the smile I feel creeping up on my face; for most likely being this man's first ever rejection. At least, that's what I would like to imagine.

Once I finally make it to the apartment, with no further run-ins with strangers, I slowly ascend up the stairs, quietly pushing open the squeaky front door and make my way to bed. I lie there for a few minutes, reflecting on my night.

All I keep thinking about is Dawson. His sweet dimpled smile and his slightly wavy hair pushed up from his forehead each time he ran his hand through it. Even more so, the way he kissed me back. The thought is enough to send shivers down my spine.

I quickly shove the images of him out of my head, angry at myself for even allowing someone to take over my mind that way. It can't happen. I won't allow it. And with that final thought, I slowly drift off into a deep sleep.