Time seemed to move slowly as Amanda felt herself gliding through the air, well not so much gliding but still… Continue reading
He stands at the bar, a pint of Fosters in his one hand the other gesticulating wildly as he talks to a portly older man. The older guy is perched on a bar stool looking unimpressed with the younger guy’s conversational attempts, but that doesn’t stop him.
Every so often he glances across to the group sat in what is jokingly referred to as the ‘Loser’s Lounge’, occasionally he will join them, as will most of the other regulars.
She is part of the group, currently playing a game of pool with her friend. He watches as she bends over the table to take a shot, her tight jeans stretching across her pert bottom. He tries not to stare, but he just cannot resist and he is not the only one. He notices the other eyes drawn in her direction, from the youngest to the oldest nearly every guy in the pub enjoys watching her play.
He smirks to himself thinking how unlike the rest of them he has had the privilege of closer inspection of the fine piece of ass. Just as quickly though he berates himself, never again he swore to himself. That girl was trouble with a capital T! He draws his eyes away and attempts to re-enter into banter with the older guy only to discover the seat vacated.
Turning again he see’s her look in his direction, their eyes meet for a moment and he can’t help but smile, knowing she knows he is watching her and that she is watching him back. She glances down, unable to keep looking at him. He knows why, he has caused that hurt look that passed over her face when their eyes met. He can feel what she is feeling but still he tries to hold to his resolve.
Rolling a cigarette to distract himself, all the while he can feel her eyes burning into him, but each time he glances up she quickly looks away. This game of trying not to be caught watching each other continues through the evening, but everyone sees it, everyone knows these two cannot resist each other. Despite all that has gone between them in the past, the trouble, the rows, the passion, the deceit, the fights. Theirs is a true love-hate scenario, that neither can break free from.
He walks out the side door of the bar to smoke his cigarette and is greeted by the lads jeering about his most recent interaction with her, where she finally lost her temper with his cruel dismissals of her affection and smacked him one in front of everyone. He feels embarrassed to be laughed at and tries to shrug it off, further cruel dismissals at her expense, but the lads know better by now and just torment him even more. As he flicks away his cigarette end he comes to a decision. It is time to call a truce again. They both drink here often and cannot continue to pretend they don’t even know the other exists.
Returning to the bar he sees her standing waiting to be served. Picking up his beer from where he left it he walks over and stands beside her. She peers at him out the corner of her eye but acts as though she has not noticed him standing there. He props his elbows on the bar facing out towards the room as she faces the bar. He looks at her, seeing the pain in her face as she tries to pretend he isn’t there. He tells her that she owes him an apology and as she turns to face him he can see tears in her eyes.
She begins to speak to him, desperation in her voice as she tries to explain how hurt she was by his actions that it had pushed her to something she had never experienced before – violence. He does not defend himself, admitting to being nasty and cruel. He hopes that making her believe he is not worthy of her affection will keep her from getting too close to him. It is not good for either of them to be so close to another, he knows this, but it seems she does not.
Mid-sentence she is interrupted by the barman finally coming to serve her. Drink ordered, she turns back to him but does not continue what she was saying, she shakes her head realising whatever she says will not be heard by him. He can see this realisation within her and they both turn away.
She takes her drink and returns to sit with her friends as he watches on for his perch at the bar.
Where do they go from here, he wonders. At least they are speaking again now, without specifically asking for it he has managed to bring about a truce between them for the time being. How long it will be until they are back in each others arms or at each others throats is any bodies guess. For now though he will continue to watch her from a short distance like a fly on the wall.
He is the bar-fly…
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Its Flash Fiction Friday again, so another short story for you from me…