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It’s been an awful long day. Who would’ve thought her last year as an undergrad could be so stressful? Well, yes, she always guessed it would be, considering she wants to get into Columbia Law School without using her family name. She’s just not willing to be in her father’s claws forever. She wants a life of her own.
She rounds a corner, and her feet carry her a little faster to the bar in which she sings karaoke every Thursday night with Betty, releasing their tension and having fun. Now it’s just her, but she needs this quiet time to wallow in self-pity without Betty’s perky and bright attitude. Unfortunately, by the time she enters the pub, she shivers and notices a large crowd being obnoxiously rowdy.
“Great,” Veronica mutters through her teeth, before approaching the bar.
It’s starting to snow, and she has no time or strength to go anywhere else – besides there’s no wine at home and she’s in the mood of something fancy and sugary, unlike most times.
She sees a string of letters hung on the wall, cheap and colorful, that read Happy Birthday, while she takes her coat off, beret and gloves, as well.
“Howdy, doll face,” a girl with freckles on her face and almond eyes greets her. “Are you with the party?”
For a second she wants to be honest and say that no, she’s not, but this could mean free drinks. She doesn’t think the group of thirty in the back will care about one or two – they won’t make a big difference in their tab.
“Sure,” Veronica smiles.
“Great, fun bunch,” the bartender chuckles. “What are you having?”
Veronica takes a deep breath, eyeing the people around them and their drinks. Her eyes fall involuntarily on the Happy Birthday sign, glittery under the warm lights. “A piña colada.”
The woman behind the bar quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yup.” Veronica grins and leans over the bar, both elbows on it. “I like piña coladas.”
“And getting caught in the rain?” a soft and deep voice asks from her right. Only then Veronica notices the redheaded man nursing a beer. She’s sure he wasn’t there when she arrived. He snorts a laugh before his eyebrows knit together while tilting his head to the right as he looks at her. “Sorry, bad pun.”
She just can’t help it, and snorts a laugh. “Well, you do have half a brain.”
He chokes on his beer, coughing and chuckling. “Certainly, hope so.”
“Yoga?” she asks just to humor him, and his smile grows bigger.
“Kickboxing.” He points to the scar above his right eyebrow, and she makes a curious sound. “What?”
“I’ve wondered about that. I’ve always thought about taking a class, because truly, yoga just doesn’t cut it for me. I can’t stay still for too long.” She frowns. “It’s just so fucking boring!” she mutters before the bartender returns with a tall glass of piña colada. Little umbrella and maraschino on it, that makes Veronica smile.
“You want to punch things?” asks the redhead at her side.
Taking a sip of the sugary concoction, Veronica closes her eyes and sighs. “That too.” She turns on the stool to face him, and he does the same as he toys with the peeling label of his bottle. “Isn’t it liberating?”
“Cathartic?”
“What deep seeded issues you have?”
He snorts a laugh, his honey brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Struggling musician.”
“I feel for you.” They both laugh at her comment, and it’s then when Veronica notices the guitar case next to him, wondering if maybe he was singing here or if he’s about to. What if he’s a guest at the party?
“And your reason to drown sorrows in a sugar high?”
She giggles and uses the straw of her drink to mix it. “College. Grad school? Just the rest of my life, you know?”
He nods at her, slowly, and she takes the time to study him. He’s in just a washed out black t-shirt, the Pearl Jam logo faded due to too many times in the washer. There’s a hint of a tattoo peeking out of one sleeve. His dark jeans filled by strong muscles. But the thing she likes the most about him is that carefully tousled flaming red hair – he looks like someone her parents would dislike on principle, more so if they knew about his chosen career. But even so, there’s something about him that screams good boy – maybe that awfully cute smile.
Sipping more of her drink, they look at each other for a moment in silence.
“Are you up for some mischief?” he asks like a little boy, caught in the thrill.
Veronica grins. “Sure.”
“Hey, Clara?” He calls for the bartender, and lifts his guitar case over the bar. “Keep this for me, would you?”
“Sure thing,” the woman replies, before taking the guitar.
This boy in worn-out working boots walks past Veronica, but as he does, he reaches for her hand. His fingers thread with hers, spinning her in the stool before she jumps off to follow him, holding her drink in her free hand.
In the back of the bar there’s people dancing, and other talking in loud voices over the music.
The redheaded stranger pries the drink from her hands, and she makes a sound of protest, before he laughs. “I’ll get you a new one. You can get as many piña coladas as you want.”
He leads her to the dancefloor, and she realizes that the music is some rock-pop lively song, that people is just singing along to, and her companion seems to blend in immediately. Veronica cracks up before following him.
Grabbing her hands, he spins her around. She just lets herself fall into the chaotic joy of this group of people, led by the man in front of her, encouraging her to jump around and sing as loud as she wants. It’s liberating to feel the tension leave her body, to feel her stomach hurting out of laugh and her throat thirsty after singing with abandon.
“I need water!” Veronica shouts after the fourth song.
His red hair looks a bit sweaty, and she’s sure hers is not as shiny as it was, but she doesn’t mind.
“Let’s go.” He follows her to the bar, and on this side, there’s a burly guy with short blonde hair who smirks at the sight of them. “Two waters, and some fries.”
“Coming right up, kiddo.”
Veronica realizes most people here know him, not just the bartenders but also the patrons of the place. “What’s your name?”
“Why?” And there’s the playful boyish smile again.
“Because everyone seems to know who you are, and I’m in the dark.” Veronica leans against the bar. “Tell me your name.”
“Yours first.”
“Veronica.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Ronnie.” He smirks when the guy behind the bar returns with fries and the water, and he pops two fries into his mouth before moving away.
“Hey! Wait.” Veronica frowns, but follows him anyway. “You promised!”
“I didn’t!” He turns around to hand her a water. “But you’ll know soon enough.” He offers her some fries and a bright smile.
Veronica huffs, but takes one. “I come here on karaoke nights. I feel I should’ve seen you before.”
“I never come here on karaoke nights,” he explains as he makes a greeting sign at someone behind her. “Why would I if there are enough people willing to take the stage?”
Veronica shrugs a shoulder and takes a swig of her water. “True, I suppose.”
They take a small round table a bit further from those who are still dancing. Mystery musician just leans back and eyes the people, smile in place. One of his legs is stretched in her direction – he looks comfortable.
“Well, Mr. Popular–“
“I like that nickname.” His cheeks are tinted pink, and she wonders if it’s a blush of because it’s quite warm in the bar.
She laughs. “Of course, you do. Anyway, when will I hear you sing?”
He shakes his head. “Not tonight.” He leans over the table, closer to her while keeping eye contact.
“Why not? You’re not up for a rendition of a classic Happy Birthday for the poor sap whose birthday party we’re crashing?”
He snorts a laugh. “Nope.”
Veronica narrows her eyes. “You’re mean.”
“You wound me, Ronnie. I think you’re magnificent. Gorgeous. Fun. And a bit evil.”
She laughs at him and chucks a fry in his direction. He grins at her when he shoves said fry into his mouth.
“A roguish angel,” he says when he takes the last fry and wipes his hands on a napkin. “Come on, one last dance.”
She complies and takes his hand one more time, letting herself be led by the handsome redhead. But unlike the previous songs, she lets herself be closer, not bothering when his hands end on her waist – and he doesn’t seem to be bothered when her hands touch his hard chest or his arm. At first look, he didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d have moves, but she’s glad she was wrong about that.
He tries to pull away, his hands sliding down the curve of her hips over her jeans, but once they are off her, Veronica grabs him by the shirt and tugs him closer.
“You think you can ruffle my feathers and then leave?” she mutters, making him grin. This time his arched eyebrow makes him look a little more dangerous.
Snaking an arm around her, he pulls her tight against him. “Roguish angel, indeed.” He spins her around, and leans over her shoulder. “Where to?”
Biting her lip, she drags him to a more secluded corner – there’s really nowhere to hide in this place but she’s been craving a kiss for a while now, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get at least that from the mysterious guy with the red hair. They end up near the front of the bar, mostly empty compared to the back.
“Hey,” she murmurs as she pushes him back against the wall, making him let out a breathy laugh. He leans back, letting her step between his slightly bent knees. Veronica rises on tiptoes, taking his face between her hands to angle his face for a proper kiss. He sucks her bottom lip between his. She sighs pleasantly and her hand travels around his head to touch the soft hairs in the back, to tug a little. He pulls her tighter against him.
“This is more than a little mischief,” he mutters against her swollen lips, making her giggle and want another kiss. His eyes have turned darker, and can’t be unglued from her mouth. He wants to kiss her again as much as she does.
But before either of them can do or say anything more, a man approaches them. “Archie, sorry I’m late. But you know I’m not really. I hate parties.” He’s wearing a grey beanie and a leather jacket.
“No problem, Jug. I–“ The redheaded guy, mystery musician, Mr. Popular, places his hand on her waist before standing up straight. Archie is the name Veronica needs to label the amazing last couple of hours.
“You were busy,” the new guy offers, laughing a bit. “And it’s fine. I get it. I’ll just grab a beer. Have fun, birthday boy. And I’m sorry to have interrupted you, raven-haired girl I don’t know.” With that, the man moves away, leaving Veronica to gape at Archie.
“It’s your birthday?” she says, clearly in shock.
Archie runs a hand through his flaming red hair. “I’m the poor sap.”
“You– I– why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it doesn’t matter?” He sighs, leaning back against the wall, curling his hands around her waist, but not moving her. “I saw you at the bar, and you were a vision, Ronnie. I never thought you’d give me the time of the day. I didn’t want to burst the bubble.”
“I crashed your party!” she hisses, pouting a bit.
He throws his head back and laughs. “I know! Best thing to happen to me today.” His thumbs are drawing circles and the sneak under the edge of her shirt. She shivers.
“What if I wanted to see you again?”
“I thought it was unlikely to happen.”
She socks him on the shoulder, making him frown and wince. “Ow, Ronnie!”
“I want to see you again, Archie.” She’s being childish, but he started with this nonsense. “Poor sap, struggling musician, Mr. Popular. At least, if you want to see me again.”
“Well, after that right hook, I’m pretty sure you can manage that kickboxing class.”
She tries to stop the smile on her face, but she just cannot. She laughs when he pulls her closer, kissing her cheek and cradling her face in his hands to peck her lips.
“Do you like cake?”
“Pfft, do I like cake?” she mocks him. “Of course, I like cake.”
Archie smiles, taking her hand to lead her back to the party, but she stops him. Tugging his arm, she brings him back in front of her, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him in on a scorching kiss that leaves them both breathless.
“Happy birthday, by the way.”