Chapter 3
When Violet arrives at the bar the hostel owner recommended, she discovers it's not just a place to eat dinner. Patrons can also grab a drink and pass time at one of the two pool tables or the foosball table located opposite the eight dining tables.
Violet takes an empty seat at the bar and orders a hamburger with fries, accompanied by an orange soda. She watches the players while eating. Not a shy woman, she's already considering leaving a coin on one of the pool tables to play a game against the next winner.
Two guys play at the left table, while a couple, a man and a woman, occupy the right one. They all seem skilled, perhaps too much for her level, but she just wants to play a game to kill time. It's too early to go to bed, and she doesn't know anyone here or have anything to do. Solitude doesn't suit her, and since she didn't anticipate this detour, she left the book she's reading on her bedside table. The woman, with her back to Violet and leaning over the table to line up her next shot, executes a perfect move, pocketing two solid balls. Violet gapes, chewing her fries hungrily, realizing she's been staring at her for a while.
After her small victory, the woman straightens up and turns with a satisfied smile to chalk her cue. She looks up and meets Violet's gaze. Violet stops chewing for a moment, and the food she's swallowing catches in her throat. She tries to contain her cough but fails, only managing to cover her mouth to keep the chewed bits from flying out. Violet coughs until her eyes water and her cleavage sweats.
"Are you okay?" The bartender's voice makes her turn, embarrassed.
Violet nods, feeling her whole body burn, and drinks her soda until the food finally goes down, soothing her throat.
"Went down the wrong pipe," she says in a raspy voice, brushing it off.
The man nods with a grimace and continues tending the bar. Violet turns without thinking, expecting the woman to be executing another perfect shot, but discovers she's still there, her cue resting on the floor as she watches her intently. Suddenly, she gives a thumbs up, asking if she's okay. Violet, with a spontaneous smile and burning cheeks, repeats the gesture. As soon as she does, the woman flashes her a smile that Violet finds charming before turning back to continue her game.
If Violet was watching her distractedly before, now she does so almost brazenly. She notices her appearance, realizing from the start that the woman is older than her, probably over forty, though she doesn't mind. The second thing that catches her attention is her look, a mix of elegant and casual that gives her a unique beauty, typical of women with strong character and clear ideas. The tight jeans, spotless ankle boots, subtle makeup, and elegantly tied hair contrast with the open shirt covering a basic t-shirt. Violet concludes there's nothing about her she doesn't like.
Once, talking with Teresa, she asked Violet's opinion on casual encounters, or plainly put, one-night stands. Violet respects and envies those who can enjoy sex that way, but for her, it's impossible without feelings involved.
"Are you telling me you've never hooked up with someone and then acted like it never happened?" Teresa had asked, surprised.
"No," Violet said proudly, not minding admitting it. Everyone is different, and she's not one who needs to do things just because others do. She has nothing to prove.
"Not even if you met your ideal woman?" her colleague asked. "I mean, that person we all imagine as perfect, you know, and don't tell me you don't have your imaginary woman prototype."
"Well, if I met a woman like that, it's possible I would," Violet admitted, to Teresa's satisfaction.
Violet is very aware at that moment why that conversation with her coworker has come to mind. It's simple; the woman playing pool in front of her is the type of woman she imagines as physically perfect, though to others she might be average. When their gazes cross again, she realizes the answer she gave her friend wasn't entirely accurate. She said it was probable, but the correct word would be a resounding yes. She would undoubtedly sleep with a woman like that without needing to exchange a single word.
"Damn," she mutters, surprised at herself.
Violet finishes the last bite of her hamburger and, driven by impulse, takes a coin from her purse and approaches the table where the woman is playing. Both she and her opponent look at her when she shows the coin.
"Can I join?" she asks, in case it's a closed game between friends who don't want to be disturbed.
"Of course," the woman answers as the man nods with a smile.
With a grateful expression, Violet leaves the coin on the wood and steps back.
"Don't go too far," the man tells her.
Violet notices the remaining balls and understands that the woman is crushing him and that she's next in line for a beating. She heads to the bar, pays for what she's consumed, and returns with her purse and what's left of her soda.
Minutes later, the man disappears, and the game between the two women begins.
"Are you from around here?" the woman asks, leaning over the table, concentrated as she aims.
They haven't even introduced themselves. Violet hasn't asked her name or given her own. Something between them indicates it's not necessary. Since they started playing, moving and crossing paths around the table, the atmosphere has charged with electricity that both clearly understand can only be discharged in one way.
Violet feels as if they've made an unspoken pact, something that will happen as soon as this game ends, and her groin burns just thinking about it.
"No, I'm just passing through," Violet responds without further explanation.
She doesn't consider it necessary. After all, one-night stands are like that. A good time together and then back to their lives as if nothing happened. Besides, she hasn't lied. Her stop in Huesca is just due to bad weather. If it hadn't started snowing, she'd be at her mother's house now, and for a moment, she's glad those inconvenient snowflakes have changed the course of her night.
"And you?"
The woman hits the white ball firmly and pockets a solid ball. She straightens up, focused, and walks to the opposite side of the table without taking her eyes off the ball. Violet can't take her eyes off her.
"Neither," she responds and leans over the table again.
Another perfectly executed shot pockets the next ball. Violet smiles, and the woman straightens up and fixes her with a penetrating gaze that leaves her mouth dry.
"I can give you a bit of slack, or I can sink them all and we can go to my hostel right away."
Violet didn't expect her to be so direct, and when she opens her mouth to answer, she notices the words won't come out. The woman looks at her without changing her expression, and Violet wonders when it became so clear that they both want the same thing.
"How about you skip the exhibition and we leave right now?" Violet answers.
The woman smiles with satisfaction and leaves the cue on the table. Violet imitates her, and they both put on their coats, grab their purses, and head out to the street.
"Where's your hostel?" Violet asks.
The woman pulls on her coat's hood and gestures for her to follow. Violet doesn't hesitate and falls in step beside her, hands buried in her pockets and her heart racing.