Starstruck #2
“J-just trying to keep busy.” Here I am, nervously stuttering. Surprise, surprise.
“I see. You keep scrubbing like that, you’re going to rub a hole in the glass.” Lee laughs.
“Oh, you know, just trying to be thorough.” I do my best to smile through my awkwardness.
“I’d say you’re being very thorough.” His friend points out.
Another familiar voice. Do my cheeks look as red as they feel?
My eyes widen. I know exactly who you are. My body leans onto the bar for more support. My once weak legs now feel numb. No, not numb, but instead the feeling you get when your feet fall asleep. Only this time, it’s radiating up my thighs. Oh, damn, is it hot in here?
“Oh, then I’d say I’m doing well at my job,” I answer while glancing up towards his green eyes, more of a gaze than a glance.
Those damn eyes are going to be the death of me.
Am I flirting? If I am, I am doing a terrible job.
I see myself reflected in his thick black horn-rimmed glasses.
He hasn’t turned away since he’s sat down.
I guess you could say that’s a good thing.
I don’t think he’s stopped looking in my direction, and I don’t think I’ve stopped looking at him either.
It’s like I’m one of those kids in that horror movie.
You know what I’m talking about. It’s the horror classic with the evil clown.
Just call me Beverly and him Pennywise .
“Thalia.” Lee interrupts my gaze. His voice stops my trance as it echoes in my ears.
“This is Alan.” I know exactly who he is. Alan removes his black gloves and reaches his hand out towards mine. What should I do? Have I ever shaken anyone’s hand before? My rag falls on the black tile behind the bar as I reach forward.
“Oh, shit.” I bend over clumsily and reach down, hitting my head on the bar as I come back up. “Fuck.” I curse, rubbing the back of my head.
“You okay, Sweetheart?” That’s right, Lee is here too. They’re both here. The men I listen to almost daily, dreamt about-and well, fantasize about–are standing in front of me.
“Yeah, just my normal grace,” I answer, feeling my cheeks go red again.
“Alan Jones,” he replies. “I’ll keep my hands to myself this time.” That voice, the one that I catch myself thinking about more than a normal person probably should, is real, and it is in front of me.
“That may be the safer option.” I smile, continuing to rub the back of my head. He looks at me above his frames. His full pink lips curve into a smirk. Holy shit, he does it too.
“I was telling Alan earlier that you’re a big fan of the show.” Lee once again breaks my stare. There is a bit of amusement in his voice. He’s enjoying this too much. Fucking asshole.
“You’re interested in true crime?” Alan’s voice rises a little with excitement. Oh shit, that was adorable.
“Yeah. Ever since I was little, I used to watch those old shows while my mom was at work. Unsolved Mysteries. I’ve been hooked ever since. ”
“It’s always nice to meet a fellow crime solver.” He smiles. He smiles, and my insides melt. At this point, they're like a liquified snowman on the floor.
“I wouldn’t say that…” Okay, I am smiling a little too widely now. I have so many feelings going on in my head right now. A smile will have to do. “You want a drink?” I ask, trying to end this whole awkward flirting thing I was doing. Okay, I know I’m flirting, I’m just really bad at it.
“Yeah, of course. What would you recommend?” His gaze breaks.
“Don’t let him fool you, Thalia. He knows what he likes.
” Lee winks, and Alan shakes his head. Am I missing something?
“He’ll take an Old Fashioned.” He adds. He pats Alan on the shoulder.
“Don’t let him leave without paying. This shit is expensive.
” He nudges his elbow into Alan’s arm. Lee walks toward the back, probably to discuss the inventory of his liquor bottles with Janice.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” His hooded eyes look back up at me. Fuck. Please don’t leave me alone with this man. I have no trust in myself in what might happen .
“Old-fashioned it is.” I turn to face the bottles sitting on the mirrored shelf behind me.
His eyes are on me while I reach for the Bourbon.
He watches my every move as if he's counting every silver star and moon printed on my bodysuit.
His stare continues as I turn back toward him.
He observes my hands closely, his green orbs following them as I pour the bourbon, add the bitters, and the large ice cube in the small whiskey glass.
He studies my every move, eyes missing nothing.
He bites his bottom lip and looks up at me as I pour the brown liquid into the glass.
“It looks perfect.” His deep voice makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up .
“I hope you like how it tastes.” My response is timid, and my voice is unintentionally breathy.
He lifts his glass to his pink full lips, the amber liquid sloshing over the large ice cube before tilting it back.
I can't help but gape at the muscles in his neck as he swallows.
He gently places his glass on the bar, licking what is left on his lower lip.
“Tastes fucking perfect,” he says in that voice I have grown to love so much.
“I’m glad you like it.” Why do I feel out of breath? Maybe it’s these damn high-waisted jeans. No, that can’t be it.
“Although I knew I would.”
“H-h-how did you know?” I ask, stammering my words.
“I watched your hands. I paid close attention to your movements. You know you’re good at your craft.
It’s the small details that are the most important.
” He brings the glass up to his lips again.
There is something about him—something I can’t name.
It fascinates me, and honestly, terrifies me at the same time.
My heart races with every look in his deep emerald eyes.
“Is this your specialty?” My gaze is once again interrupted by his voice. Stop staring, Thalia.
“My specialty?” What’s a specialty?
“The drink? Are you known for any others?” The glass is still in his hand, lingering near his mouth.
“I don’t know if I’m known for my other drinks. The Old Fashioned is just a house favorite. I make them a lot."
“Your practice has paid off. Look at that, not a smudge in sight.” He slowly rotates the glass in his hand. The lights from above shine through, creating a warm glow from what is left of his drink. The glow around him is driving me like a moth to a lamp .
“How long have you been listening to the show?” He stops observing his glass and looks up at me. My breath catches from the weight of his eyes.
“Only a few months.” My voice is low and nearly a whisper. My mouth slightly parts as I watch him observe me.
“What do you think so far?” He leans in closer. His volume matches mine. His elbows lean against the bar.
“I-I-I like it. You and Lee make me laugh. True Crime has always been an interesting topic to me.” I lean on the bar further, matching his view.
“The way the ‘sick fucks’ do it,” I reply using finger quotes.
His smirk becomes a small smile. “Why do they do it? Who do they choose to do it to? What is their motive? It’s all so intriguing to me. ”
His stare moves from my eyes down to my bright red lips, then to my exposed cleavage.
I may not have gotten many tips tonight, but if I get Alan Jones to look at my tits, I’d say a win is a win.
He moves his eyes back up to meet mine. His eyes are bright with flecks of copper around the edges.
They shine like bright gems in the glow of the light.
“What was your favorite episode?” He continues with his elbows still resting on the bar.
“I liked the latest one. The one about The Son of Sam. I’ve listened to it a few times.” The look of surprise on his face is almost comical.
“Just out of curiosity, when do you like to listen? To the episodes, I mean. I’ve noticed everyone has their preferred time they like to tune in.” He continues to look intently, waiting for my response.
“Usually after work. Multiple times a week. Depending on how my day went.” My voice is slower, and my breath has become heavier. I think I just confessed to the man I fantasize about that he’s the topic of my fantasies.
“Do you live alone, Thalia?” It’s just a question, but the weight of it sits heavy in my gut. I can’t help but answer him almost immediately.
“Yes. In my studio apartment, about a block away.” Why am I giving this man my information?
His eyebrows raise, and he sits up on the bar stool. I see I’ve piqued his interest.
“You guys get acquainted?” Lee’s voice comes from behind Alan. My eyes trail from Alan’s bright green eyes to Lee’s deep blue ones. Lee’s eyes are like a silver bullet under the lights. If I were a mythical creature running through the woods, these men would be what causes my demise.
“You didn’t tell me, Lee, that I’d be meeting our biggest fan.” Alan crosses his arms around his chest.
“If I had told you, I would have ruined the surprise,” Lee admits as he leans against the back of Alan’s chair.