Chapter Four
Charlie
Forced Socialization
You know what’s worse than being the only I.T.
person at a company of tech illiterate baby boomers and gen xers?
Being forced to go out after work with said baby boomers and gen xers.
Even on a good day, I don’t want to spend my free time trying to make awkward small talk at a bar. And today is not a good day.
It’s not that I’m pessimistic and antisocial…
okay, maybe I am a little bit…but this is just not my scene.
Give me a night at home with my closest friends playing Zombicide or Dying Light.
Give me a Final Destination movie marathon with my buddies.
You know what I like? Peace. And quiet. Getting high with my friends and playing games.
Laughing at stupid movies. Not this. Not the stench of beer.
Not sticky floors that my shoes cling to with every step.
Usually, I say no to these types of things. Throw out a ‘sorry, I’ve got plans!’ (even when those plans are just me and my couch). No such luck this time.
One of my co-workers, a lady in her mid-forties named Nancy, asked me what I was doing tonight.
I was distracted, trying to fix a colossal mistake she somehow made which rendered her work-issued laptop unusable (I had to restore the damn thing.
I mean, c’mon Nance, how do you mess it up that bad?
What are you doing on it?), when she asked.
And you know how I answered? Without thinking, I said ‘nothing really, I’ve got a date with my couch’.
Who says that? Everyone knows that you don’t give details when someone asks what you’re doing later!
You say anything except ‘nothing really’.
Make something up, for fuck’s sake. But no, my fried, decaffeinated brain said ‘nothing really’.
And that’s how I ended up here. At this god-awful sports bar called The End Zone.
The only type of end zone this is bringing me to is to the end of my sanity.
All my co-workers are here, crowded around tables shouting and laughing over each other.
Let me tell you, Nancy is a big drinker.
She’s absolutely sloshed. Maybe that’s how she messed up her laptop so bad?
Maybe she was day drinking. That would explain a lot actually.
Hopefully, I won’t be far behind Nance. The only thing that’s getting me through this horrendous situation is my old faithful, the delicious whiskey sour.
Now, I’m not usually a big drinker, but if I’m going to spend another minute in this jock infested hellhole, I’m gonna need to drink several more of these, and fast.
By my third whiskey sour, I’m feelin’ prettttty goooddd. I’m laughing and schmoozing with the best of them, let me tell you. I’m practically in with the group now. And you know what? Maybe they aren’t so bad. Maybe I was too hasty in my judgement.
Annnddddd there goes that thought, because Nance just upchucked all over my sneakers.
“S-sorry Char—” Hiccup. “Charlie.” Nancy wipes her pukey mouth on the back of her hand, and then proceeds to pat my shoulder with said puke covered hand.
What the fuck. I’m never doing this shit again.
I step away, ignoring Nancy’s continued apologies and everyone else asking if she and I are okay.
Grabbing a big wad of napkins from a nearby table, I wipe off as much vomit as I can. Eughh. These were new chucks too. I’ll never get the stench of beer vomit from the canvas.
Once they’re as clean as I can get them with one-ply, see through, bar napkins, I head to the bathroom to wash up. Maybe I should just go home.
As I’m standing at the bathroom sink, scrubbing my hands of all traces of Nancy’s stomach contents, the whiskey sours really start to hit me.
The world begins to spin around me, and I’m forced to white knuckle the sink to keep my balance.
Ah, fuck. I guess pounding drinks wasn’t the smartest choice.
“Hey, buddy, you okay?” A deep, yet soft and kind voice, says from behind me.
“Euggghhhhh…” I groan, and suddenly I’m looking at the ceiling as it gets further away from me.
Strong arms wrap around my middle, hoisting me against a broad chest by the underarms before I crash to the ground.
“Ummmphhh.” The air is knocked out of my lungs as I collide with the man who caught me.
“I’ve got you, little dude.” The soft voice says in my ear, lifting me to my feet again.
As soon as I’m on my feet, I stumble away from the strong grip. “I’m not little.”
“Sure, buddy. And I’m not a vampire.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.” I grumble. “You’re supposed to say something that you clearly are. Vampires don’t exist.”
“That you know of.”
“Okay, weirdo.” I huff, turning on my heel to look at the massive guy standing behind me. He’s gotta be six four or even six five. And he is beefy. I’m talking the beefiest of beefs. His muscles have muscles. The guy could crush me just by accidentally sitting on me.
“Thanks for not letting me crack my head open on the tile, but I’m gonna head out now.” I give a little wave, shuffling as quickly as I can away from Mr. Beef.
I’m almost to the door when the bathroom tilts on me again, and I have to catch myself on the nearby wall to stop from stumbling.
“Little dude, you don’t seem alright.”
“I’m fine.” I growl, trying to be menacing, but it comes out weak. Oh boy, I am not feeling great right now.
“I gotchu, buddy.” The hunky man’s arm wraps around my waist, plastering me to his side and stabilizing my footing.
Damnit, did I just call him hunky? No, stupid brain.
This guy is not hunky, or attractive, or kind of charming.
He doesn’t smell so good that I want to bury my face in his armpit and take a deep whiff.
And he doesn’t look like an angel descended from the heaven’s with his halo of golden blonde hair and entrancing gray eyes.
I don’t like jocks, and his muscles are doing nothing for me!
“S-stop it. I’m fine. Leave me alone.” My words come out as a petulant whine.
“No can do, buckaroo. You’re smashed and can’t even stand by yourself. What kind of bro would I be to leave another bro vulnerable like that? That’s not me, dude.” Guy of my dreams replies.
No, stop that! Bad, bad Charlie! He is not the guy of your dreams, he’s probably only attractive because you’re drunk and he saved you from cracking your head open like a watermelon.
“Let’s get you some water, brochacho, and then call you an Uber.” Beefcake McPecs rumbles.
“Fine. But just because I wanted to go home anyway, not because you suggested it.”
The voice is closer to my ear than before as the stranger whispers “Mmmm…feisty and stubborn, I like that.”
Goosebumps wrack my body, shivers descending down my spine at the proximity of the voice in my ear. My dick twitches, almost as if it wants to rally, but unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), the whiskey has other plans.
“If you’re going to corral me around like a sheep, you might as well tell me your name.” Woah there, my voice came out way huskier than I meant for it to.
“I’m Kip!” He says cheerfully, grinning at me with blindingly white teeth.
“Charlie.”
Kip pauses, looking down at me with a furrowed brow. “Uhhh…no, buddy. I said Kip. I’m Kip, not Charlie.”
Sighing, I roll my eyes at the ceiling. Why is it the pretty ones have to be dumb? Is it the universe trying to balance things? I guess it wouldn’t be fair if they were hot and smart. That’s too much power for one human.
“No, I meant that my name is Charlie.”
“Ohhhhh, right on, little dude!”
We get to the bar and Kip literally plucks me off my feet and plops me onto a stool like I weigh nothing.
I’m not that little, I swear. Five foot eight is a respectable height for an adult male.
It’s more than average, in fact. Just because we aren’t all giants doesn’t mean I’m little.
And sure, I’m not built like a brick wall with thighs of steel like Kip, but I’m not a twig either.
“My buddy, Charlie, needs some water.” Kip tells the bartender. The bartender nods and turns away. As soon as she turns around, Kip turns back to me. “What’s your address? I’ll order you an Uber.”
Who does this guy think he is? We met literally five minutes ago and he thinks I’m going to give out personal details like that?
“I’m not giving you my address. I don’t know you. You could be a creep, or-or, a serial killer!”
Kip gives me a baffled look. “Uhh, Charlie? Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You do know me, I introduced myself five minutes ago. My name is Kip, remember?”
Oh, boy. This guy is really dense. “I know your name is Kip…and I know that you’re like freakishly gigantic and attractive, but I don’t know a single other thing about you.”
Kip’s face breaks into a devious, and smug, grin. Waggling his eyebrows, he says “You think I’m attractive, huh?”
“That’s what you got from what I just said?” I sigh, pulling out my phone. Oof, I thought I was sobering up because sitting here, I feel pretty good. Buttttt, when I look at my phone it’s all a blur. How the hell am I gonna order a ride?
Kip leans in close, too close. So close that I can smell the intoxicating scent wafting off of him, something manly and spicy. “That’s not how Uber works, Charlie.” He yanks the phone out of my hand. “You can’t just text ‘Uber’ and ask for a ride. You gotta go through the app.”
My face flushes. I know that…I just…I thought I was on the app.
“Ya know, I could just drive you home, dude. I haven’t even drank.” Kip offers, his face eager like a puppy that’s begging for attention.
“What makes you think I’m gonna get in a car alone with you, when I wouldn’t even tell you my address?”
Kip pouts. “I won’t bite, I pinky swear.” He then snickers, as if what he said was hilarious.
This guy is an oddball, but it’s also kind of endearing. Or maybe I only feel that way because he’s so fucking hot. “Nah, either order me a ride or give me my phone back.”
“Fiiinneee.” Kip whines, still pouting. He types furiously on my phone for what feels like an eternity, before handing it back. “Your ride will be here in ten minutes. I also put my phone number in there, so you can text me and let me know you got home okay.”
“Why would I do that?” I wince, that came out harsher than I meant it to.
Aaaaanndd there’s that puppy face again, except this time it looks like I kicked Kip.
“You’re not very nice, Charlie. Here I am, going out of my way to help you, and you’re being kind of mean. You must not have many friends, if you treat everyone this way.”
I shrink in on myself, letting out a soft scoff. “I have friends.” Three, to be exact. But still, I have friends. “Sorry for being a dick. I’m not very social.” I mutter.
Kip’s wide smile reappears, showing his unnaturally white and shiny teeth. “No worries, bro.” He pats me on the back with too much force, making me lurch forward. “You’re just a prickly little dude, but I’ve got thick skin, so your prickles won’t hurt me.”
I feel my lips pull up into a small smile. I am a prickly dude, I know this. And usually it puts most people off from me. It’s not that I try to be mean, or pessimistic, or prickly, it’s just how I am.
“Oh, wow! You’re smiling! You look really cute when you smile.” Kip beams at me, causing my smile to widen without my consent. “Not that you aren’t cute when you’re all broody and grumpy too.”
“T-thanks.” I feel my cheeks heat.
Just then, my phone pings, letting me know the Uber is outside.
“Looks like my ride is here.” I stand on shaking legs. Downing that glass of water while sitting at the bar has helped me start sobering up. I pause, turning towards Kip. “Uhhh, thank you…for helping me…and uhhh, being nice.”
“No problemo, brochacho. It was my pleasure. Be safe, Charlie.” Kip beams at me, the smile lighting up his entire face. He’s sunshine incarnate.