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Early on in your adult life you decided that alcohol would never be the answer. If you were angry or sad or feeling negative at all, instead of searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle you’d do something more productive. You’d call a friend or watch eight hours of Netflix while eating Cheetos in your underwear. You wouldn’t drink until your mind was numb like all your others friends —you’d face your problems head on and stone cold sober.
At least, that’s what you told yourself.
In reality, you always gave in. Always fought with yourself until eventually you’d say fuck it and toss your so called morals aside in favour of forgetting your problems.
Because sometimes blacking out was just better . The freedom of it was literally intoxicating, and as you tore through the doors of the closest bar you could find at that moment you could feel your entire body vibrating.
The smell of dust and grime hit the base of your nose as you moved towards the counter, eyes searching for the bartender who unsurprisingly was wearing a plaid button up, the top two buttons undone for casualty.
As you sat down you smiled in his direction, pressing your lips together tightly as you watched him walk over and lean his elbows against the bar.
“What can I get’cha?” He asked.
You shrugged your jacket off your shoulders and tossed it onto the empty seat next to you before meeting his gaze. When you did, you realized he had weirdly kind eyes, which struck you as odd, because most bartenders looked constantly pissed off or exhausted or even sometimes a combination of the two.
“Something strong that’ll make me forget my life choices,” you replied. “But nothing with vodka.” You scrunched up your face at the thought of the taste, causing him to laugh as he nodded to himself.
“Whatever you want,” he mumbled.
After that he wandered off to grab his ingredients, humming to himself as he picked up a highball glass and began filling it up with ice.
With a sigh you then directed your attention to the phone in your pocket, pulling it out to check the missed calls that you’d purposely avoided answering, hoping eventually that they’d just stop.
Based on the amount though, you knew that wasn’t going to happen. Seeing as your most recent boyfriend had now been downgraded to your ex thanks to his inability to keep his hands off of other people, you knew he’d keep calling. He always did whenever you got into your usual arguments. He’d call and call and profusely apologize for whatever stupid thing he did and just like clockwork you’d forgive him.
It was vicious cycle of never-ending pain, and although you were pretty good at avoiding the emotional consequences of his actions by just having sex and pretending like nothing happened, this time things were different.
Because this time you were tired. Tired of seeing him run off with whatever flavour of the week he decided to wrap himself up around. Tired of hearing about it through the grapevine of friends of friends. But most of all, tired of hurting —of having to pick up the pieces of your heart and mind every time the littlest inconvenience happened.
Just thinking about it all gave you a headache, causing you to place your forehead against the bar and release another sigh.
“Rough night?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” you muttered, even though you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like this random man actually cared about your life. He was most likely just talking to you to get tips.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
“You sure? Cause it kinda looks like you’re going to the dark place right now.”
Confused, you sat back up, noticing the freshly filled glass of dark liquid sitting next to you. “ Dark place ?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” He chuckled slightly and shrugged his shoulders, his eyes darting from one end of the bar to the other, avoiding your gaze. “It’s just this uh —this dumb thing my roommate always says whenever I’m depressed or whatever. It’s not like it happens a lot —the depression thing I mean. I’m not like depressed. Just kind of sad sometimes, you know?”
You nodded your head, shooting him an awkward smile as you reached for your drink and took a sip. Almost immediately you coughed at the taste, placing your free hand to your throat as you put the glass back down.
“Don’t like it?” He asked, motioning towards it.
You shook your head and coughed again, prompting him to grab the glass and pour the contents down the nearest sink. “Yeah, not many people do.”
“Then why’d you give it to me?” You asked, feeling your throat burn.
“Well you looked like you’ve been having a rough night, so I thought you could use the ole Miller Ass Killer ,” he replied with a grin. “It’s like a kick in the ass, but a thousand times worse.”
“What’s in it?” You asked, even though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to know.
“Guinness, Irish whiskey, and Baileys.”
“Isn’t that just an Irish Car Bomb?”
“ A what ?” He scrunched up his face, releasing another laugh as he blindly reached for a shaker and filled it with ice.
With a laugh, you repeated the name of the drink, along with the ingredients as you watched him start to make you another “Well, in this joint it’s known as the Miller Ass Killer so don’t tell anybody, otherwise I might get into some more legal trouble.”
“ More ?”
Once again he shrugged his shoulders and handed off the freshly made glass, watching as you lifted it up and took a sip. This time it tasted pretty good. A little harsh, a little tart, but overall a good drinking experience, which was all you could ask for after the previous train wreck.
“Good?”
You nodded and took another sip. “Real good.”
“Good, because I can’t really afford to give you three free drinks.”
Confused, you narrowed your eyes in his direction, watching as he cleared his throat and looked down at his feet.
At that point it finally dawned on you how attractive he was, which instantly made you feel guilty, because you’d literally just gotten out of a relationship. You shouldn’t even be thinking about boys and how the stubble on their faces really complimented the overall—
“I’m Nick, by the way.”
You swallowed nervously and nodded, tapping the edge of your glass as you tried to regain your lack of composure. “Uh, I’m Y/N.”
“Ah yeah, Y/N, like that one actor with the face who does the thing.”
Despite not entirely knowing who Nick was talking about, you laughed regardless and took another sip of your drink, listening as he nervously continued to ramble on about the so-called actor who shared your name sake.
Like the rest of him, it was oddly endearing, the way he continuously spoke about whatever was on his mind, and as embarrassed as you already were for thinking of him as cute or endearing you still found yourself giggling like a stupid schoolgirl.
“Yeah, their movies are really great. Used to watch them all the time before my girlfriend dumped me.”
Once again, he chuckled, but this time it felt completely out of place. The happy expression that coated his face failed to meet his eyes and as you stared at him, mouth slightly agape, part of you wondered what kind of idiot would be willing to dump such a perfectly caring boy.
And even though your curiosity was piqued about his breakup, you chose to merely mumble a quick sorry instead of asking questions, knowing how annoying it was when strangers tried to involve themselves in other people’s business.
“It’s fine, it’s not like I’m hung up on her or anything,” he replied with a shrug.
“Yeah?” You raised your brow, slightly unconvinced.
“Oh yeah, totally . Look at me! I’m living the dream, baby! Making drinks, taking names —I’m at the top of my game!”
You snorted almost immediately, shaking your head as you finished off the rest of your drink, prompting Nick to motion silently to the empty glass. As he did, you nodded excitedly and watched as he took it away and quickly replaced it with a new one.
“So, now that you’re apparently on the top of your game, what’s next?”
“Next?”
“Yeah, next. What’s Nick doing next now that he’s single and ready to mingle?” You shimmied your shoulders and wiggled your brows, taking another sip as you watched Nick scoff at your comment.
After that he took a couple of moments to respond, his eyes searching the length of your face as he pressed his lips together.
He looked strangely deep in thought, which once again made you wonder what it was that happened between him and his ex. Because by the looks of it it was obvious that it was something he wasn’t necessarily over yet.
Which broke your heart, because even though you’d known him for a total of probably fifteen minutes you felt like Nick was the kind of guy who deserved the world —who deserved to be happy.
Just like you.
At that moment, Nick looked down at your lips, causing the heat in your face to rise as you reached for your glass again, trying to pretend like you hadn’t noticed.
Unfortunately though, he knew that you did and cleared his throat, averting his gaze before turning his attention to one of the patrons at the other end of the bar.
“I should uh…” He trailed off, motioning to the older gentleman who stared at the two of you with half closed lid, his empty glass taunting the both of you.
You shot him a tight-lipped smile and nodded your head, instantly feeling a bubble of regret grow throughout the base of your stomach, pushing uncomfortably against your insides.
Because you wanted to keep talking to him. You wanted to let him know that everything was going to be okay and that even though things sucked right now that that’d eventually get better.
That maybe you could make them better.
“Hey, uh, Nick do you want—“
Before you could finish your sentence Nick nodded his head, eyes slightly widened as he cut you off. “ Whatever you want, Y/N .”
With a smile you nodded back and sipped your drink, watching as he reluctantly wandered away.