Slim To None
983 Words
I looked away first.
My fingers tightened slightly around my glass, but the edges of that moment still clung to me like smoke. I blinked, took a slow breath, and tried to shake it off. It didn’t work.
I wasn’t here for that.
I brought the glass to my lips—sweet, crisp, familiar—and focused on the taste instead of the way my pulse was suddenly louder in my ears. I just needed to chill. Maybe the weed was hitting a little harder than I thought, or maybe it was the electricity in the air that always comes before a band starts to play.
But then I felt it.
That weird, magnetic sensation like someone was standing behind me, close enough to touch. My whole body went still for half a second. I didn’t turn around.
I knew that feeling. I’d felt it before—on rooftops in Tucson, under festival lights in Nevada, moments that felt like the universe inhaled and forgot to exhale.
I ignored it.
Or tried to.
A second later, someone slid onto the stool next to me.
I turned my head just enough to look.
It was him. Guitar guy.
Up close, he was even more distracting. Tall, broad chest under a black tee, his sleeves rolled just enough to show strong, veined forearms. He had that messy-on-purpose black hair that curled slightly at the ends, like he’d just run his hands through it without thinking. His eyes were a piercing, glacier blue—calm and curious, with just the faintest glint of trouble.
And that jawline? Sharp enough to write songs about.
“You always vape like you’re in an indie film?” he asked, mouth curled into a lazy grin.
I raised a brow. “You always sneak up on girls who clearly want to be left alone?”
“Only when they’re interesting,” he said, then leaned in slightly. “I’m Teddy.”
He extended a hand. I didn’t take it.
“Blue,” I said, just enough to be polite.
“Like the color?”
“Like the person,” I replied.
Teddy let out a warm, unbothered laugh and dropped his hand, unfazed. “Fair enough.”
I turned back to my drink, hoping that would be the end of it.
It wasn’t.
“So, Blue… are you from around here?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug. “A little here, a little there.”
“Let me guess,” he said, tapping the bar with his knuckles. “You’re a nanny?”
I glanced at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “You rehearsed that line?”
“Nah. Just got a good radar for nannies.”
The way he looked at me then—it wasn’t flirty, not exactly. It was curious. Focused. Like he actually gave a s**t about the answer.
Dangerous.
I changed the subject. “You with the band?”
“Sort of,” he said with a shrug. “I help out. Wherever they need me.”
Vague.
“Groupie?” I teased.
“Not quite,” he said, smirking. “But I am very available for roadie work, emotional support, and stealing the last slice of pizza.”
I laughed, short and soft. “Wow. What a résumé.”
He leaned his elbow on the bar, angling toward me just a little. “You wanna tell me what you’re doing here, Blue-like-the-person?”
“Waiting for a friend.”
“Lucky friend.”
I looked away again, but I was smiling now—and I hated that he was making it so easy.
Teddy swirled the ice in his drink, watching me with those impossibly blue eyes. “So,” he said, “what are the odds I get your number?”
I smiled into my glass. “Slim to none.”
“Ouch,” he said, placing a hand over his chest like I’d just wounded him. “Brutal.”
“Just honest,” I said with a shrug. “I’m not really… in the market.”
He tilted his head, playful but curious. “What’s the deal? Already taken? Or just emotionally unavailable?”
“Both.”
My mind wandered, just for a second. Tyler was probably waiting for me in the van, wondering what was taking so long. I hadn’t meant to be out this late. He hated that.
Teddy gave a low whistle, nodding like he got it. “Someone’s waiting on you, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, not clarifying.
He didn’t ask for details, just offered a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Lucky guy.”
I took another sip of my drink, keeping my expression neutral. “Something like that.”
“Well,” he said, “if you ever change your mind, I give great playlist recommendations and slightly above-average texting banter.”
I laughed softly. “Tempting.”
He leaned back, casual and loose like he hadn’t just tried to sneak past my walls. “Guess I’ll just have to hope we run into each other again.”
I raised a brow. “You really banking on coincidence?”
“No,” he said, lifting one shoulder. “Just vibes.”
Before I could respond, his phone buzzed on the bar. He glanced at it, then sighed. “That’s my cue.”
“Trouble in the band?”
“Always.” He stood, slinging the guitar strap over his shoulder. “Lead singer’s got commitment issues with his tuner pedal.”
I smirked. “Sounds serious.”
Teddy started to walk away, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Try not to fall in love with me too fast, alright?”
“No danger of that,” I called, smiling despite myself.
But I watched him go anyway. His silhouette disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by the noise and dim lights.
- Writer
