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“Oh, piss off,” Sylvie finally yelled at the bulky man sitting across from her with his arms draped over her shoulder.
“Come on! We’re having fun!” The man ignored her request, swaying to the loud music that weaved its way through the broken peanut shells littering the floor and the thickness of stale air hanging in the spaces between half-drunken souls trying to drink away what little humanity they had left.
A storm was threatening to blow down the ancient structure, and the support beams running lengthwise above the stools shook with every strong gust of wind. Its anguished howls were drowned out by the off-key singing from the stage to the corner of the small space. A bachelorette party stood huddled in a group swaying in drunken disharmony, it seemed the bride had just come to the realization that her world as she knew it was ending and her bridesmaids, drunk themselves, simply toasted to the end of the world.
Sylvie rolled her eyes and refocused on the looming figure to her right trying to persuade her to go with him. She had already said no to a far less inebriated version of the man, but he wasn’t backing down. He simply pushed her purse to the floor and took the free stool, remarking on her being all by herself. Maybe she could use some protection he slurred after another round. The storm crackled and boomed, there would be no leaving the bar until it subsided.
She looked around for someone, anyone, who could help her. The bartender was busy at the other end refilling the bachelorettes and everyone else looked either helpless or perhaps like they themselves would be more trouble than they were worth. That is, until her eyes caught on a looming figure stepping in from the storm. His brown overcoat was darkened from the rain pouring mercilessly from the sky. Who would ever dare venture out in this storm was a fool, but maybe it was just the kind of fool who could help her. She was stuck and everyone else seemed too far gone to be of any actual use. While the man was distracted with his drink she ducked out from beneath his arm and nearly ran into the chest of the tall stranger shaking off the water droplets and popping his collar.
“I know we just met and all, but I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” Maybe it was the shaky desperation in her voice or his weakness for blondes with piercing blue eyes, but before she knew it, his lips met hers and she could have sworn a bolt of lightning hit the building. She was hyper-aware of her arms hanging awkwardly at her sides. He was tall and had to bend down to reach her, his hands on her neck, sending jolts of electricity from the calloused pads at the tips of his fingers. He tasted of honey and roots, there was something solid in him that she leaned into. He pulled millimeters from her and whispered: “Good?” Sylvie lost in the haze of the kiss, took a few seconds to regain control before shoving him off.
“What the hell?”
“Hey, hey, hey!” The stranger shot her a confused look. Sylvie’s eyes darted to the man she had left behind on the stool, his face flushed red as he rolled his eyes at the couple before storming off towards the other end of the bar.
Sylvie took a few steps back, putting space between her and the tall stranger. In such a short amount of time, she knew he tasted of honey and smelled of mint. Knew that his voice was soft and that his hair curled at the tips. But she didn’t know his first name, nor what drove him to think she wanted his soft smile against her mouth.
She watched the man from across the bar turn his attention to the party before allowing herself to relax and return to where she had been sitting, waiting out the storm. The man, gravitated more than followed her back to her seat.
“What the hell was that?” He said, filling the seat next to her.
“I just needed someone to pretend to be my boyfriend, not slobber on me,” Sylvie shot back, turning her attention to the glass nearly empty in her hands.
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy that.” He stuck his hand out towards her. “Loki.” She opted to ignore it. “And your name is?”
“None of your business.”
“Hey, I was just trying to help,” Loki replied, throwing his hands up in surrender before waving over the bartender. He ordered himself a whisky neat and tried a different tactic. “The storm’s awful. Could hardly see the door.”
“What were you doing out in it?” Sylvie’s curiosity got the better of her, plus she saw the guy from earlier look over at them. She chose her battles well and knew that Loki would prove a far easier opponent to deal with (should she have to).
“I needed a drink,” he replied, motioning towards the one in his hand.
“Ahhh,”
“So you get it.”
“No, ‘ahhh’ as in, you’re an idiot.” Loki scoffed.
“Fine, why are you here?”
“I was supposed to meet someone, I didn’t know the storm would get this bad.”
“Oh…someone?”
Sylvie knew what he was trying to figure out, and she didn’t trust him enough to show her hand just yet so she stayed silent. He didn’t need to know it was the first date with some guy she met online a few hours ago. Nor that she was supremely relieved when he didn’t show.
Loki finished his drink and turned back to Sylvie. “What was up with the boyfriend thing?”
“Oh, that. ”
“Yeah, that. ”
“Just some oaf getting too close for comfort.” She gestured over towards the man who appeared to be passed out on his stool, head on the bar.
“Oh, so it had nothing to do with my charming personality or sense of style?” Loki replied wiggling his eyebrows, only half-kidding.
“If I knew how big your head was I would have asked someone else.”
“Ah, but then you never would have met me.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“So, how close do I resemble your actual boyfriend?”
“Actually, he’s four-eight, very sensitive. And he’s got bright red hair. Nothing like you.”
“Oh, I think I saw him last week at my nephew's birthday party. He wouldn’t happen to have giant feet and a red nose now?”
“That’s him,” Sylvie replied with a twinkle in her eye. “To tell you the truth, I’ve just never had time to settle down like that. There was a postman I met in Kentucky but the long distance was too much.” She paused, not quite believing she was revealing this part of herself but she had nothing to lose. He would be merely a flicker and she would be headed out whenever disaster struck again. “What about you? Any long-distance postal workers waiting by their mailbox for you back at home?”
“I’m sure it’s shocking to hear that no, I don’t have anyone.” Before Sylvie could respond, the storm roared overhead, the lights above the bar flickering. Sylvie didn’t seem to mind but Loki jumped at the clap of thunder and the flash of lightning that lit up the sky outside.
“Are you…scared?” Sylvie asked, realizing this was the first moment of silence she’d had from him all night.
“Scared? Me? Never.” He could barely convince himself of that fact, might less the blonde woman sitting beside him who remained unfazed, not even flinching at the slight shaking of the structure or the possibility of the lights giving out at any second. Another flash of lightning and boom of thunder before the lights cut out for a few seconds before flickering back on, eliciting a drunken mix of cheers.
“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Sylvie remarked before reaching for her drink.
“Fine, yes, being caught in a storm isn’t my idea of relaxing.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. I’ve seen worse.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I have.” Sylvie paused, Loki’s eyes asked her to go on. “My mother was a humanitarian. Worked for the Red Cross. I spent my childhood surrounded by what remains after an apocalypse.”
“Oh, that sounds…hard.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” Loki heard a deep sorrow in the waver of Sylvie’s voice. His own problems seemed far too trivial in the face of her childhood. His arm was resting on the bar, only centimeters from her’s. She had been tapping her fingers on the counter in a steady rhythm and stopped abruptly when she felt Loki’s stare on her. It crossed his mind that it would take only a short distance to steady her hand with his. She looked up, meeting his crystal blue eyes that seemed endless, a pair she could drown in if she wasn’t careful.
“So, you’re not scared of being in the storm then?” Loki finally asked, snipping the golden thread of tension pulled tightly between the two.
She thought for a minute, taking another slow sip of her drink before responding. “No, I guess not. I’ve seen disasters level whole cities. But, I guess they never really phased me…because….”
“Because?”
“Because no matter what happens, I know how to pick up the pieces again.” She held his gaze, a warmth spreading throughout her body under his heavy stare. Her mind was telling her to look away, to change the subject, to ask him about what he did for a living, but she couldn’t. “I’ve seen the ends of a thousand worlds, and I’ve helped rebuild a thousand more.” She added, unsure why, but something deep down just wanted to know what he thought. She wasn’t adept at opening up to people, but there was something so simple, so trustworthy in the way he held himself. She couldn’t read his expression, he seemed to absorb her words like water in dry soil.
“You’re amazing.” He said softly, reaching for her hand. There was nothing loud to what he said, nothing over the top or false. He said it as if she already knew, with the confidence one might say the earth is round or the sun is hot. Sylvie’s cheeks turned a deep red and she finally looked away but didn’t pull her hand from his. His grip was solid and soft, strong. The pads of his thumbs sent electricity shooting through her, mingling with the erratic beating of her heart. She had never been met with such sincerity. It made her squirm a bit.
“What do you do?”
“Nothing quite so heroic. My father owns a law firm out in New York. I was supposed to work there, but plans changed. So, I left. And now I’m here. I’ve been freelancing, currently working on a piece on some shady government practices, mainly surrounding Thomas. V. Atkins, the senator from Oklahoma.”
“Oh, exposing the big wigs, I’m sure they aren’t gonna like that.”
“Well, if he didn’t want that, he shouldn’t have tried to control the people’s free will.” Loki shrugged as if his job were no big deal, but it was, and he questioned every single day whether he was making the right choice. Whether his family would be proud.
“What made you switch to journalism?” Loki was caught off-guard, he didn’t expect her to catch that part or even care.
“My mom. She died a few years ago.”
“What was she like?”
“Good. Purely decent. The kind of person you’d want to believe in you.”
“She sounds nice.”
“Yeah, well, she was the only one in my family who knew how much I didn’t want to be a lawyer,” Loki paused, remembering her kindness and the way she loved him. Despite all his flaws, despite being rebellious and unlovable, she loved him. “She told me to find something that made me happy.” He looked at Sylvie and wondered if it was possible that he could have known her a thousand lives before this.
“Have you found it?” She asked softly, examining the way her hand fit in his, mesmerized by the strength in his grip and the way his thumb traced delicate circles into her skin.
“I, think so,” he whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. Like what he had to say was a secret. She leaned in too, meeting him halfway, merely a breath from him before the lamps above the bar cut out, plunging the entire bar into a stale darkness.
“Hey!” She heard a drunken cry from across the room shout. Another voice joined in. Sylvie felt Loki’s grip tighten as he looked up towards the ceiling. The pouring rain was pounding viciously above, begging to be let in.
“Tell me more about your mom,” Sylvie prompted in a false cheerfulness that she hoped didn't give her away. She had only known this man an hour but she could tell he was anxious, holding his hand tighter, she pulled his attention back to her.
“Well, she was…wonderful. I remember when I was younger, I wanted to impress my classmates, so she taught me a bit of magic.” At this, Loki smiled before reaching out softly and pulling a coin from behind Sylvie’s ear. Even in the soft glow of candlelight and the occasional flashes of lightning, Loki could see how Sylvie’s face lit up. Her smile only caused his to deepen. Pride reached his eyes and for the first time in a long time.
“Do you know any other tricks?”
“Let’s see,” Loki thought, making a show of thinking. He completely forgot about the storm in lieu of thinking of other tricks to impress Sylvie. “Well, I never quite perfected sawing someone in half. I’d get them cut but I could never figure out how to put them together.” Sylvie tried to suppress her smile at the corniness of Loki’s joke but she couldn’t. She saw how hard he was trying to impress her, and for the first time, she felt that she wanted the attention. There was a natural goodness to this man and Sylvie, for the first time in a long time, didn’t feel like she was a bystander in her own life.
“I’m only smiling to amuse you, not because I thought your joke was funny,” she assured him. Loki smiled widely in appreciation. Above, the lights flickered back on and the crowd cheered. They listened for the rain and what was a heavy downpour had subsided to a steady drizzle. Sylvie looked up, cursing the lights. She was quite enjoying her time with this stranger, and in the shadow of darkness, she felt more like herself than ever. Loki was clever and mischievous and she wanted more than anything to ask why he tasted so good, but she’d save that for another rainy day.
“You know,” Loki began, his turn to draw her attention back to him. “I don’t know if you know this, but you’re enchanting.” Sylvie rolled her eyes and looked away again, trying to conceal her blush, praying the lights would flicker out again. “No, I’m serious.” He insisted, and she turned back skeptically. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him, it was that she did. There was that utterly mind-boggling, stomach-churning intensity in his eyes that made it hard to look away. It seemed like he was going to go on, but he couldn’t get the words out. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, which was fine with Sylvie because she realized sometimes it’s just easier to say with her mouth what words can’t.
She closed the gap easily, her hands snaking up to pull his face to hers. She felt the smoothness of his jaw, sharp and clean-shaven. She inhaled his scent of pine and confidence. She could taste the sharp bite of whisky still on his lips. His hands weaved through her blonde tangles. He twirled a strand around his pointer as she pulled away slightly, a playful smile on her lips. “My name’s Sylvie.” She whispered before going in for another sloppy kiss that managed to drown out the world around her.