The stranger
1250 Words
MANDY'S POV
I had no plan when I ran out of that party.
No direction, no destination, no thought beyond, away from the music I had chosen, away from the cake I had ordered, away from Markus's stupid face.
The street was alive around me, a couple arguing quietly outside a pharmacy, a group of young men spilling out of a takeaway place with paper bags and loud opinions, a taxi idling at the corner with its window down and something slow playing on the radio.
Nobody looked at me twice.
Good, I was done being looked at.
I walked for fifteen minutes before I saw the bar.
It was nothing special, it was tucked between a laundromat and a phone repair shop, its sign lit in faded yellow, the door propped open with a brick to let the night air in. Through the opening came the smell of spilled beer and fried food and the low murmur of people.
There were no pack members, no wolves. No one knew my name or my rank or the particular way I had just been gutted in front of an audience.
I walked in and chose the far end of the bar.
The bartender put a drink in front of me without a word and I was grateful because I didn't want any conversation. I wanted to sit on this stool at the end of the bar and look at the row of bottles on the shelf and think about absolutely nothing for as long as that was possible.
It was not possible for very long.
“You are an omega. That is all you will ever be.”
The glass was cold in my hand. Someone was playing pool in the back, the crack of balls against each other punctuating the low music from the speakers. A television mounted in the corner was showing a football match nobody was watching.
Four years.
I had given that man four years of my life. Four years of choosing him, defending him, believing in him against every piece of evidence and every person who tried to tell me the truth. Four years of keeping myself, all of myself, because I thought it meant something. Because I thought I meant something.
Ahhh, Mandy you are an absolute fool.
I drank the first bottle and signaled for another.
A man appeared at my elbow maybe twenty minutes in. He was young, reasonably attractive and smelled of aftershave.
"Hey gorgeous, care to dance?"
"Go away," I said, without looking at him.
The second one lasted slightly less time.
"You look lonely, can I….."
"f**k off," I said pleasantly. "I'm done with men. You're all trash. Every single one of you."
He blinked, very confused and left.
I went back to my drink.
The bartender caught my eye from the other end of the bar and I couldn't tell if he was amused or concerned. I didn't particularly care which. I signaled for another drink and he brought it without comment, which elevated him immediately in my estimation.
I was on my third when the stool beside me scraped back.
I didn't look up. I had a prepared response ready and everything.
"Whatever you're about to say…."
"Can I join you?"
I looked up.
He was tall, had broad shoulders, his dark hair slightly disheveled like he'd been running a hand through it, and a jaw that had no business being that sharp in a bar this ordinary.
And his eyes were deep blue.
I opened my mouth to tell him to leave but…
"Sure," I said instead.
I didn't understand why I said it. The word came out before I'd consulted anyone about it. He sat down, and signaled the bartender with so much composure that I couldn't ignore.
We sat in silence for a moment.
He looked at the collection of bottles in front of me, the empty ones and the current one and the general evidence of a woman making a dedicated effort and then he looked at me.
"Looks like you're trying to close down the bar," he said.
"Men are scum," I said.
He leaned back slightly on his stool, eyebrows rising. "Whoa.. whoa, okay. Let's take it down a notch, beautiful. Not all men." He picked up the drink the bartender had set in front of him. "I, for one, am not scum."
"Don't flatter yourself," I said smiling.
I didn't even know why I smiled.
He saw it immediately.
"I made you smile," he said, and there was something warm in his voice. "That alone should tell you I'm not like all men, beautiful."
I faced my drink, took a long sip and felt the warmth of it settle somewhere in my chest alongside something else I didn't have a name for yet.
Then I said, very quietly, almost to the glass…
"I should have listened to my mother."
A beat. "What?"
"She warned me." I turned the glass slowly in my hands. "She told me. She sat me down and looked me in the eye and said baby girl, nothing good will come out of this. And I…" I laughed, and it came out terrible. "I kissed her forehead and walked out the door."
"Hey." His voice dropped. "Calm down. What happened?"
The pool game cracked in the background and the television flickered.
"I spent four years," I said. "Four years with him. Four f*****g years of my life and he…." My voice cracked and I hated it for cracking. "He dumps me in public, in front of everyone, for the next available…." I pressed my lips together hard. "What did I do wrong? Am I not enough? Am I not…."
"Hey."
His hand came across the bar slowly, and covered mine where it was wrapped around the glass.
"Don't," he said quietly. "Don't do that to yourself."
I looked at his hand on mine. Then at his face.
"I don't know your story," he said. "But I know that whatever happened to you tonight ... .you didn't deserve it. That much I can see just from looking at you."
The blue eyes were serious and something cracked open in my chest.
The warmth of his hand, the steadiness of him. The way he had sat down beside a furious, grieving woman telling men to leave her alone and had somehow, without trying, without pushing, made her smile and then made her feel seen and now was sitting here with his hand over hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I don't know if it was the drinks or just me but I leaned forward and kissed him.
It lasted maybe four seconds. His lips were warm and tasted like his drink and for those four seconds the bar and the night and Markus and four years of waiting for something that was never coming all fell completely away.
Then he pulled back.
"What…." He looked at me, genuinely surprised, those blue eyes wide. "What are you doing?"
The shame hit my face immediately.
"I…." I stood up so fast the stool scraped back loudly and several heads turned. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that. I…..I'm going."
"Wait, that's not what I….”
But I was already moving, grabbing my clutch, pushing through the bar toward the door because I needed air.
Not again.
The night air hit me when I pushed through the door and I just….walked, ran, I don't know.
- Writer
